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NEW 

ZETETIC METHOD 

FOR ( b 

ENGLISH AND FRENCH COMPOSITION: 

A 

SERIES OF PROGRESSIVE EXERCISES, 

CONTAINING 

IMITATIONS OF FABLES, LEGENDS, POEMS, &c. &c; 



ALSO, L " 

ARGUMENTS AND 

FOR 



D MODELS 



AMPLIFICATIONS, LETTERS, NARRATIONS, DESCRIPTIONS, 
SPEECHES, DEBATES, &c. &C. 



SECOND AND THIRD SERIES. 



By ALPHONSE A. ROUX, 

PROFESSOR OF FRENCH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 

IN THE MOUNT PLEASANT ACADEMY, 

AND AUTHOR OF 

' THE ZETETIC METHOD, OR EASIEST METHOD OF LEARNING FRENCH.' 



NEW-YORK: 

SPALDING & SHEPARD, R. LOCKWOOD 6c SON, 

189£ Broadway. 411 Broadway. 

JOHN WILEY, 

161 Broadway. 

PHILADELPHIA: 

DANIELS & SMITH, E. H. BUTLER & CO. 

Cor. 4th and Arch sts. 23 Minor st. 

BOSTON: 
B. B. MUSSEY & CO., 



. \N\ 



WORKS OF THE SAME AUTHOR. 



ZETETIC METHOD, 

OR 

MOST SIMPLE AND EASY METHOD FOR LEARNING TO READ, WRITE, AND 

SPEAK FRENCH CORRECTLY. 

ON A PLAN ENTIRELY NEW. 

N. B.— Of this First Edition of this method, particularly intended to be sub- 
mitted to the approbation of Professors, a limited number of copies has been 
struck off. 

price, $1 25. 



NEW ZETETIC METHOD 

FOR 

ENGLISH AND FRENCH COMPOSITION. 

A SERIES OF PROGRESSIVE EXERCISES, 

Containing imitations of Fables, Legends, Poems, &c. &c. Also, Arguments and 
Models for Amplifications, Letters, &c. &c. 

FIRST SERIES.— PRICE 50 CENTS. 



FOURTH AND FIFTH SERIES, BEING THE LAST SERIES, WILL SHORTLY APPEAR. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by 

ALPHONSE A. ROUX, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New- York. 

■ .'• * •* ' » • # > «.-. V J •' 



PREFACE. 

We have stated in the preface to our First Series, that in pre- 
paring themes for composition, we have followed the method re- 
commended by Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, and the great Rheto- 
ricians of antiquity ; it only remains to add a few explanations. 
Our method answers the questions that pupils never fail to put to 
their instructor* each time that he gives them a subject for com- 
position : " How shall I begin ? "What must I say ?" Our 
arguments indicate to the pupils the path most natural to follow ; 
but should their imagination furnish them with different means 
of execution, they may follow their imagination, provided that 
those means help on the end that we have marked out. 

The first care of the pupil, before commencing his composi- 
tion, is to comprehend well his subject, that is, to think upon 
what he ought to say ; for the pupil who has not sufficiently re- 
flected upon his subject before taking his pen, will soon find him- 
self at a stop ; a disheartening sense of incapacity comes upon 
him ; his ideas do not present themselves, or they appear confused 
and indistinct ; the work becomes difficult — repulsive even. But 
the pupil, who, in the face of his subject, will study the parts of 

* In our humble judgment, we could not sufficiently blame those instructors who 
permit their pupils to select their own themes ; first, because negligent pupils take 
a book and copy their compositions, whilst, on the other hand, the studious pupils 
often choose dry topics, such as salt, pepper, metals, steam, &c. &c, which, what- 
ever else may be said of them, at least are very dry and difficult to treat. And we 
say it with all sincerity, the teacher who permits his pupils to select subjects such 
as metals, fossils, mineralogy, &c. &c, would, perhaps, be puzzled himself to write 
ex tempore upon them ; how can he, then, correct the false ideas which the pupils 
may have written % Besides, we ask every sensible person, if it is upon such topics 
that the pupils can develop their ideas and form their style ! 



Vlll PREFACE. 

it, will soon see, with as much surprise as joy, the first shadows 
dissipate, and the theme unfold itself to him as a whole. 

But, at the age in which the art of writing is studied, the ra- 
pidity of the imagination and the mobility of the mind oppose 
themselves to a clear and patient conception of the subject ; few 
pupils habituate themselves to make a plan before writing, and 
yet, a plan well conceived is the indispensable condition of good 
writing. Before commencing his composition, the pupil ought 
to know whence he sets out, to what point he wishes to come, 
and, with the exception of the details, by what paths he is to 
reach it. Our method spares the pupil this labour, which is often 
above his intelligence ; it indicates to him the principal points, 
and the duty of the pupil consists in finding the secondary facts 
in completing an argument ; in drawing a consequence from a 
principle ; in evolving one idea from another, and in completing 
a picture from an unfinished sketch. 

Nearly all the subjects of composition which we offer, have 
been treated by ourselves, when we were pupils, and if we have 
often made changes, for the better, in these arguments, it is that, 
having our own compositions before us, we have been able to 
judge where our inexperience had led us astray. We have en- 
deavoured, in making changes, to smooth the way for the pupil. 
May we have succeeded ! 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 

Figurative Language p. 13 

Of the method of obtaining a good style — Blair 22 

Exercise in Rhetorical Analysis . 25 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 

Narrations, precepts. — Swift 31 

Stratagem of Columbus. Narration. — Irving 36 

Letters. Precepts. — Johnson 39 

Letter No. 1. — To Lord Palmerston 43 

Letter No. 2. — From Lord Palmerston 44 

Letter No. 3. — To Lord Palmerston 45 

Battle of Hastings. — Hume 47 

Letter No. 1.— To Lord Chesterfield 50 

Letter No. 2.— From Lord Chesterfield 51 

Letter No. 3.— To Lord Chesterfield 52 



ARGUMENTS. 

The Death of a Young Girl. Letter No. 2. — From a Father to his 

Son 54 

Hereditary Heroism. Letter No. 2. — From Lord Chesterfield .... 55 

Milton in his old age 56 

Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 57 

Death of Cicero. Letter No. 2. — From a Father to his Son 59 

The Tower of London 60 

Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 61 

The Cranes of Ibycus 62 

Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 63 

Plague of Marseilles. Letter No. 2. — From a Preceptor 65 

Courage of Pepin. Letter No. 2. — From a Father 67 

Death of Andre Chenier. Letter No. 2. — From a Young Man 68 

Belshazzar's Feast. Letter No. 2.— On Friendship 69 

Return of Mary Stuart to Scotland 70 



X CONTENTS. 

Letter No. 2. — From an Englishman p. 71 

Death of Louis XL Letter No. 2.— Lord Stafford to his Son 72 

Theseus embarks for Crete 74 

Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Pope. The Fight of Gonzon 75 

The Punishment and Reward of Gonzon 76 

Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to J. Swift.. .. 77 

Death of Lucan 78 

Letter No. 2. — From Dr. Johnson to the Earl of Chesterfield 79 

The First Crusade. — Capture of Jerusalem 80 

Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to J. Swift 81 

Funeral Ceremonies of Charles 5th. Letter No. 2. — From Mr. Pope 82 

Clemency of Theodocius. Letter No. 2. — From J. Swift 84 

Battle of Poitiers. — Tears of Pericles 86 

Narration. — By a French Pupil 87 

The same subject. — By a French Pupil 89 

DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 

Descriptions. — Precepts. — Blair 93 

Reception of Columbus after his First Voyage 94 

Narration. — Robertson 95 

The same subject. — Irving 96 

Speeches. — Precepts. — Blair 100 

Grecian Eloquence • 103 

Roman Eloquence 105 

English and French Eloquence 106 

Exercise in Rhetorical Analysis 108 

Hannibal's Speech to Scipio 112 

The same subject 113 

Scipio's Answer to Hannibal 116 

ARGUMENTS. 

The Arabian Horse.— The Emir Octair to Louis IX 118 

The Dog.— Frederick the Great to his Soldiers 119 

The Emperor Titus to Sextus— Bsetica 120 

Washington on the War.— Description of a Grotto 121 

Lucinia to her Husband.— The Island.— Mithridates' Speech 122 

The Storm.— Speech of a Good King 123 

The Island of Christina.— Speech of Charles V 124 

A Volcano.— Alexander's Speech.— A Famine at Sea 125 

Lidiasmon's Speech.— Description of a Water-Spout 126 

Charles V to his Son.— The Holy Sepulchre 127 



CONTENTS. xl 

Speech of Diodorus — The deserts.— Alexander's Speech p. 128 

Picture of a Sailor's Life. — Spartacus to his Companions, 129 

An Eclipse of the Sun.— The Delegates of Burgundy 130 

Vesuvius.— A Carthagenian Senator.— The Rising Sun 131 

An Athenian Orator.— The Evening and Night 132 

Cyrus to his Allies— View of Jerusalem 133 

Aubusson to the Knights.— The Storm.— Peter's Speech 134 

Spectacle of Nature.— Columbus to his Sailors 1 35 

The Swiss Delegates.— Speech, by a French Pupil 136 

The same subject, by a French Pupil 139 

COMPOSITIONS FRANCAISES, 

BY FRENCH PUPILS. 

Les hommes apres le Deluge 143 

Jeremie sur les ruines de Jerusalem 147 

Entrevue d'Arminius et de Flavius 150 

Les Goths dans Athenes 154 

Meme sujet. .... 157 

Edouard en Ecosse 16*2 

Jmilcon a Bostar avant la bataille de Zama 165 

Giscon en faveur d'Amilcar 168 

Cineas dans le S6nalt Romain 171 

Polignac aux deputes Hollandais 174 

Meme sujet 381 

ARGUMENTS. 

Mort de Moise. — Le jeune Anglais et le vieillard 185 

Lettre d'un general. — Guillaume Tell. — Lettre 186 

Les prisonniers. — Un Numide loue sa patrie 187 

La lionne. — Combat du taureau. — Discours de Lucien 188 

La mere des Machabees. — Combat singulier. — Incendie 189 

Mort d'Agrippine. — Gedeon a ses soldats 190 

Lettre. — Sophocle accuse. — Les vepres siciliennes 191 

Sylla aux Romains. — Lettre de Marie Stuart 192 

Discours de Maximien. — Incendie. — Alexandre mourant 193 

Le deluge. — Pelage dans les Asturies 194 

Lettre de Mathilde. — Le general Jackson a ses juges 195 

Calliphon a Sylla.— Attila en Italie.— Discours de C. Martel 196 

Le matin. — L'imperatrice Julie a ses deux fils 197 

La vie d'un avare. — Charlemagne aux grands de sa cour 198 



Xll CONTENTS. 

Mort de Rienzi. — Discours d'un vieillard p. 199 

Lettre de Charles a son ami. — Mort du Tasse 200 

Assassinat du president Duranti. — Dunois a Charles VII 201 

Visite a un cimetiere. — Discours d'Asdrubal 202 

Lettre de Frangois ler. — Village detruit 203 

Clotilde et Clovis.— Lettre de condoleance 204 

Mort de Roland le paladin. — Discours a Francois ler 205 

Lettre d'une jeune homme. — Discours contre les gladiateurs 206 

Lettre No. 2 ; Racine a son fils 207 

Entree de Jeanne d'Arc a Reims. — Discours de Pinto 208 

Lettre No. 2 ; P. L. Courier a sa cousine 209 

Combat nocturne de Suenon. — Discours de Gonsalve 212 

Lettre No. 2 ; Lettre de recommandation 213 

Le patriarche Simeon et Pierre Thermite au tombeau de J.-C 214 

Discours de Sisygambis. — Lettre No. 2; Lettre de J.-J. Rousseau .215 

Un combat naval.— Les Grecs fugitifs. — Exorde d'une discours 217 

Henri IV a l'assemblee des Notables.— Lord Montrose 218 

DEBATES. 

Western, Eastern, Southern and Middle States 219 

Italy, France, Germany, England and United States 224 

Hebrews and Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Middle Ages, Moderns..234 



~VSTs***^<^j^s*>s/*AW-- 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 

11 1 admit," says Blair, in his XlVth lecture, " that per- 
sons may both speak and write with propriety, who know not 
the names of any of the figures of speech, nor ever studied 
any rules relating to them. Nature dictates the use of the 
figures, and like Monsieur Jourdain, in Moliere, who had 
spoken for forty years in prose, without ever knowing it, 
many a one uses metaphorical expressions, for good pur- 
pose, without any idea of what metaphor is. It will not, 
however, follow thence, that rules are of no service. All 
science arises from observations on practice. Practice has 
always gone before method and rule, but method and rule 
have afterwards improved and perfected practice in every 
art. We every day meet with persons who sing agreea- 
bly, without knowing one note of the gamut, yet it has been 
found of importance to reduce these notes to a scale, and 
to form an art of music ; and it would be ridiculous to pre- 
tend that the art is of no advantage, because the practice 
is founded in nature. Propriety and beauty of speech are 
certainly as improveable as the ear or the voice ; and to 
know the principles of this beauty, or the reasons which 
render one figure or one manner of speech preferable ta 
another, cannot fail to assist and direct a proper choice." 

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 

Figures, in general, may be ascribed to that language 
which is prompted by the imagination or by the passions. 
Rhetoricians commonly divide them into two great classes : 
figures of words and figures of thought. The former, fi- 
gures of words, are commonly called tropes, and consist in 
a word's being employed to signify something that is differ- 
ent from its original and primitive meaning ; so that if you 
alter the word, you destroy the figure. When I say, for 
instance, that a good man enjoys comfort in the midst of ad- 
versity, I just express my thought in the simplest manner 
possible. But when I say to the upright there ariseth light 
in darkness, the same sentiment is expressed in a figurative 
style ; a new circumstance is introduced, light is put in the 
place of comfort, and darkness used to suggest the idea of 
2 



14 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

adversity. The trope consists in light and darkness being 
not meant literally, but substituted for comfort and adversity, 
on account of some resemblance or analogy which they are 
supposed to bear to these conditions of life. 

The other class, termed figures of thought, supposes the 
words to be used in their proper and literal meaning, and 
the figure consists in the turn of the thought ; as is the 
case in exclamations, interrogations, apostrophes and com- 
parisons ; where, though you vary the words that are used, 
or translate them from one language into another, you may 
nevertheless still preserve the same figure in the thought. 

ALLEGORY. 

An allegory may be regarded as a continued metaphor • 
as it is the representation of some one thing by another that 
resembles it, and that is made to stand for it. 

We may take from the Scriptures a very fine example of 
an allegory in the 80th Psalm, where the people of Is- 
rael are represented under the image of a vine, and the fi- 
gure is supported throughout with great correctness and 
beauty : Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt : thou hast cast 
out the heathen and planted it. Thou preparedst room before 
it) and didst cause it to take deep root, and it filled the land. 
The hills were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs 
thereof were like the goodly cedars. She sent out her boughs 
unto the sea, and her branches unto the river. Why hast thou 
then broken down her hedges, so that all they which pass by the 
way do pluck her ? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, 
and the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return, we be- 
seech thee, O God of hosts : look down from heaven, and be- 
hold, and visit this vine ! Here there is no circumstance, 
(except perhaps one phrase at the beginning, thou hast cast 
out the heathen,) that does not strictly agree to a vine, whilst, 
at the same time, the whole quadrates happily with the 
Jewish state represented by this figure. This is the first 
and principal requisite in the conduct of an allegory, that 
the figurative and the literal meaning be not mixed incon- 
sistently together. For instance, instead of describing the 
vine, as wasted by the boar from the wood, and devoured by 
the wild beast of the field, had the Psalmist said, it was af- 
flicted by heathen, or overcome by enemies, (which is the 
real meaning,) this would have ruined the allegory. Indeed, 
the same rules that are given for metaphors may also be 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 15 

applied to the allegories, on account of the affinity they 
bear to each other. The only material difference between 
them, besides the one being short and the other pro- 
longed, is, that a metaphor always explains itself by the 
words that are connected with it in their proper and natural 
meaning; as when I say, Achilles was a lion; an able 
minister is the pillar of the state. My lion and my pillar are 
sufficiently interpreted by the mention of Achilles and the 
minister, which I join to them ; but an allegory is, or may 
be, allowed to stand more disconnected with the literal 
meaning ; the interpretation not so directly pointed out, but 
left to our own reflection. 

ALLUSION. 

Allusion is that figure by which some word or phrase in 
a sentence calls to mind, as if accidentally, another similar 
or analogous subject. Example : I was surrounded with 
difficulties, and possessed no clue by which I could effect my 
escape. 

ANTI-CLIMAX. 

The descent from great things to small is termed anti-cli- 
max. It is the opposite of climax, and is found principally 
in ludicrous compositions. Examples : 

And thou, Dalhousie, the great god of War, 
Lieutenant-colonel of the Earl of Mar. 

Under the tropic is our language spoke, 
And part of Flanders hath received our yoke. 

ANTONOMASIA. 

Antonomasia is a term applied to that form of expression 
in which a proper name is put for a common, or a common 
name for a proper : or when the title, office, dignity, pro- 
fession, science or trade, is used instead of the true name 
of a person. Thus, when we apply to Christ the term, the 
saviour of the world, or the redeemer of mankind ; or to 
Washington the term, the father of his country ; or when we 
say his excellency, instead of the governor, &c, &c, the ex- 
pression is called Antonomasia. So, also, when a tyrant is 
called Nero, we have another instance of the same form of 
expression. 



16 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

ANTITHESIS. 

Antithesis is the counterpart of comparison; and is found- 
ed on the contrast or opposition of two objects. By contrast, 
objects opposed to each other appear in a stronger light, and 
their peculiar beauties or defects appear in both relief. 
Examples : Behold, my servants shall eat, but you shall be hun- 
gry ; behold, my servants shall drink, but you shall be thirsty ; 
behold, my servants shall rejoice, but you shall be ashamed. 

APOSTROPHE. 

Apostrophe is the turning off from the regular course of 
the subject, to address some person or thing, real or imagi- 
nary, living or dead. Example : Weep on the rocks of 
roaring winds, O maid, of Tnistore ! Bend thy fair head over 
the waves, thou fairer than the ghost of the hills, when it moves 
in a sun- beam at noon over the silence ofMorven ! He is fallen ! 
thy youth is low ; pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin ! 

BOMBAST BATHOS. 

Bombast is a kind of expression by which a serious at- 
tempt is made to rise a low or familiar subject above its rank, 
thereby never failing to make it ridiculous. 

Bathos is the reverse of Bombast, and consists in degrading 
a subject by too low expressions. 

CLIMAX. 

Climax consists in an artful exaggeration of all circum- 
stances of some object or action, which we wish to place in a 
strong light, either a good or a bad one. It operates by a 
gradual rise of one circumstance above another, till our 
idea is raised to the highest pitch. Examples : 

Boisterous in speech, in action prompt and bold, 
He buys, he sells, he steals, he kills for gold. 

It is a crime to put a Roman citizen in bonds ; it is the height 
of guilt to scourge him ; little less than parricide to put him to 
death ; what name, then, shall I give to the act of crucifying him ? 

COMPAKISON, OR SIMILE. 

Comparison, or Simile, is a figure frequently employed 
both by poets and prose-writers, for the ornament of com- 
position. A metaphor is a comparison implied, but not ex- 
pressed as such ; as when I say, Achilles is a lion, mean- 
ing, that he resembles one in courage or strength. A com- 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. IT 

parison is, when the resemblance between two objects is 
expressed in form, and generally pursued more fully than 
the nature of a metaphor admits; as when I say, The actions 
of princes are like those great rivers the course of which every 
one beholds, but their sjirings have been seen by few. This 
slight instance will show that a happy comparison is a 
kind of sparkling ornament, which adds not a little lustre 
and beauty to discourse ; and hence such figures are termed 
by Cicero u or ationis luminal Examples: Delightful is thy 
presence, O Fingal ! It is like the sun on Cromla, when the 
hunter mourns his absence for a season and sees him between 
the clouds. 

Sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shades the soul of Cles- 
sammor. 

EUPHEMISM. 

Words or phrases that call up disagreeable ideas, are in 
polite language softened by means of circumlocutions, and 
these circumlocutions are called Euphemisms. Example : 
He was launched into Eternity, for, He was hanged. 

EXCLAMATION. 

Exclamations are the effect of strong emotions of the 
mind, such as surprise, admiration, joy, grief, and the like. 
Example : Oh, liberty ! Oh, sound once delightful to every 
Roman ear I Oh, sacred privilege of Roman citizenship ! 
Once sacred, now trampled upon ! 

EXORDIUM, OR INTRODUCTION. 

The Exordium, or Introduction, is designed to conciliate 
the good will of the hearers ; to render them benevolent, or 
well-affected to the speaker and to the subject. 

On whatever subject anyone intends to discourse, he will 
most commonly begin with some introduction, in order to 
prepare the minds of his hearers ; he will then state his 
subject, and explain the facts connected with it ; he will 
employ arguments for establishing his own opinion, and 
overthrowing that of his antagonist ; he may perhaps, if 
there be room for it, endeavour to touch the passions of his 
audience ; and after having said all he thinks proper, he will 
bring his discourse to a close, by some peroration or con- 
clusion. This being the natural train of speaking, the parts 
that compose a regular formal oration are six, viz : 1st, 
2* 



18 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

the exordium or introduction ; 2nd, the state and the divi- 
sion of the subject ; 3rd, narration or explanation ; 4th, the 
reasoning or arguments ; 5th, the pathetic part ; 6th, the 
conclusion. 

I do not mean that each of these must enter into every 
public discourse, or that they must enter always in this 
order. There is no reason for being so formal on every oc- 
casion \ nay, it would often be a fault, and would render a 
discourse pedantic and stiff. There may be many excel- 
lent discourses in public, where several of these parts 
are altogether wanting; where the speaker, for instance, uses 
no introduction, but enters directly on his subject ; where 
he has no occasion either to divide or explain, but simply 
reasons on one side of the question, and then finishes. 

HYPERBOLE. 

Hyperbole, or exaggeration, consists in magnifying an ob- 
ject beyond its natural bounds. It may be considered some- 
times as a trope, and sometimes as a figure of thought ; and 
here indeed the distinction between these two classes begins 
not to be clear, nor is it of any importance that we should 
have recourse to metaphysical subtilities, in order to keep 
them distinct. Whether we call it trope or figure, it is plain 
that it is a mode of speech which hath some foundation in 
nature, for in all languages, even in common conversation, 
hyperbolical expressions very frequently occur : as swift as 
the wind — as white as the snow — and the like ; and our 
common forms of compliments are almost all of them extrava- 
gant hyperboles. 

INTERROGATION. 

The unfigured and literal use of interrogation, is to ask 
a question ; but when men are strongly moved, they natu- 
rally put into the form of a question, whatever they would 
affirm or deny with great earnestness. Example : How 
long, Catiline, will you abuse our patience ? Do you not per- 
ceive that your designs are discovered ? &c. 

IRONY. 

Irony is the intentional use of words which express a 
sense contrary to that which the writer or speaker means to 
convey, as when we say of one unskilled in grammar : 
Admirable grammarian ! 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 19 

P^ETALEPSIS. 

When the trope is founded on the relation between an an- 
tecedent and a consequent, or what goes before, or imme- 
diately follows, it is then called a metalepsis, as in the Latin 
word fuit or vixit, to express that one was dead. Fuit 
Illium et ingens gloria Dardanidum, signifies that the glory 
of Troy is now no more. 

METAPHOR. 

Metaphor is a figure founded entirely on the resemblance 
which one object bears to another. Hence, it is much al- 
lied to simile or comparison, and is indeed no other than a 
comparison expressed in an abridged form. 

When I say of some great minister, that he upholds the 
state, like a pillar which supports the weight of a whole edifice, 
I fairly make a comparison ; but when I say of such a min- 
ister that he is the pillar of the state, it is now become a me- 
taphor. The comparison between the minister and a pillar 
is made in the mind ; but it is expressed without any of the 
words that denote comparison. The comparison is only in- 
sinuated, not expressed ; the one object is supposed to be so 
like the other, that without formally drawing the compari- 
son, the name of the one may be put in the place of the 
name of the other. The minister is the pillar of the state. 
This, therefore, is a more lively and animated manner of 
expressing the resemblances which imagination traces 
among objects. 

METONYMY. 

All tropes are founded on the relation which one object 
bears to another ; in virtue of wjbieh, the name of the one 
can be substituted instead of the name of the other, and by 
such substitution, the vivacity of the idea is commonly 
meant to be increased. These relations, some more, some 
less intimate, may all give rise to tropes. One of the first 
and most obvious relations is that, between a cause and its 
effect. Hence, in figurative language, the cause is some- 
times put for the effect ; thus Addison writing of Italy, 

Blossoms and fruits, and flowers, together rise, 

And the whole year in gay confusion lies. 
Where the whole year is plainly intended to signify the ef- 
fects or productions of all the seasons of the year. 

At other times, again, the effect is put for the cause, as, 



20 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

grey hairs, frequently for old age which causes grey hairs ; 
and shade, for trees that produce the shade. 

The relation between the container and the thing con- 
tained, is also so intimate and obvious as naturally to give 
rise to tropes. In the same manner, the name of any coun- 
try is often used to denote the inhabitants of that country. 

The relation between any established sign and the thing 
signified, is a further source of tropes. 

To tropes, founded on these several relations, of cause 
and effect, container and contained, sign and thing signified, 
is given the name of metonymy. 

PER IPH RASE. 

Periphrase, periphrasis, and circumlocution, are words 
all meaning the same thing. Periphrase is the use of more 
words than are necessary to express the idea. As a figure 
of Rhetoric, it is employed to avoid a common or trite man- 
ner of expression. 

PERORATION, OR CONCLUSION. 

Peroration is the end of a speech, or the concluding part. 
Sometimes the whole pathetic part comes in most properly 
at the peroration. Sometimes, when the discourse has been 
entirely argumentative, it is fit to conclude with summing 
up the arguments, placing them in one view, and leaving 
the impression of them full and strong on the minds of the 
audience. 

PERSONIFICATION, OR PROSOPOPOEIA. 

Personification, or prosopopoeia, is a rhetorical figure, to 
which we attribute life and action to inanimate objects. 
When we say, the ground thirsts for rain, the earth smiles 
with plenty ; when we speak of ambition being restless, or 
a disease being deceitful — such expressions show the facility 
with which the mind can accommodate the properties of 
living creatures to things that are inanimate. 

PLEONASM, OR VERBOSITY. 

Pleonasm, or verbosity, consists in the use of words seem- 
ingly superfluous, in order to express a thought with greater 
energy, as, I saw it with my own eyes. Here the pleonasm 
consists in the addition of the expression, with my own eyes, 

REDUNDANCY. 

Redundancy is another term also employed to signify su- 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 21 

perfluity in the words and members of a sentence. Pleo- 
nasm and verbosity relate, principally, to the words in a 
sentence, but redundancy relates to the members as well as 
to the words. As every word ought to present a new idea, 
so every member ought to contain a new thought. The 
following sentence exemplifies the fault of redundancy : 
The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with inward joy, 
and spreads delight through all its faculties. In this example, 
little or nothing is added by the second member of the sen- 
tence, to what was expressed in the first. 

simile. (See comparison, page 16.) 
Every simile is more or less a comparison, but every 
comparison is not a simile. The latter compares things only 
as far as they are alike ; but the former extends to those 
things which are different. In this manner there may be a 
comparison between large things and small, although there 
can be no good simile. 

SYNEDOCHE. 

When the whole is put for a part, or a part for the whole ; 
a genus for a species, or a species for a genus ; the singu- 
lar for the plural, or the plural for the singular number; 
in general, when anything less or anything more is put for 
the precise object meant, the figure is then called a syne- 
doche. It is very common, for instance, to describe a whole 
object by some remarkable part of it, as when we say, a 
fleet of so many sail, in the place of ships ; when we use the 
head for 'the person, the waves for the sea. 

tropes. (See figurative language, page 13.) 

VISION. 

Vision is a figure of speech, proper only to animated and 
warm composition. When, in place of relating something 
that is past, we use the present tense, and describe it as ac- 
tually passing before our eyes, that figure is called in Rhe- 
toric, vision. Thus Cicero, in his fourth oration against 
Catiline, pictures to his mind the consummation of the con- 
spiracy, as follows : I seem to myself to behold this city, the 
ornament of the earth, and the capital of all nations, suddenly 
involved in one conflagration. I see before me the slaughtered 
heaps of citizens, lying unburied in the midst of their ruined 
country. The furious countenance of Cethegus rises to my 
view, while, with a savage joy, he is triumphing in your miseries. 



22 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 



OF THE METHOD OF ATTAINING A GOOD STYLE. Blair. 

To pretend to teach the art of fine writing by a series 
of mechanical rules, would be highly absurd. The young 
student may, however, be assisted by a few plain direc- 
tions concerning the most proper method of attaining a cor- 
rect and elegant style. The celebrated Dr. Blair, in his 
" Lectures on Rhetoric/' has given excellent directions on 
this subject. 

In the first place, we ought always to endeavour to obtain 
a clear and precise idea of every subject of which we pro- 
pose to treat. This is a direction which may, at first, ap- 
pear to have little relation to style. Its relation to it, how- 
ever, is close. The foundation of fine writing, is good sense 
accompanied with a lively imagination. The style and 
thoughts of a writer are so intimately connected, that it is 
frequently a difficult task to distinguish between what de- 
pends upon the one and what upon the other. Whenever 
the impressions of objects upon the mind are feint and in- 
distinct, or perplexed and confused, our style in treating of 
such subjects can never be luminous or beautiful. Whereas 
what we conceive clearly, and feel strongly, we shall na- 
turally express with perspicuity and with strength. This, 
then, is an important rule, that we should think closely on 
the subject, till we have attained a full and distinct view of 
the matter, which we are to clothe in words, till we become 
warm and interested in it; then, and not till then, shall we 
find expression begin to flow. To speak in general terms, 
the best and most proper expressions are those which a 
clear view of the subject suggests, without much labour or 
consideration. 

In the second place, to the acquisition of a good style, fre- 
quency of composition is indispensably necessary. But it 
is not every kind of composition which will improve style. 
By a careless and hasty habit of writing, a bad style will 
be acquired, and more trouble will be afterwards necessary 
to unlearn faults, than to become acquainted with the 
rudiments of composition. In the beginning, therefore, we 
ought to writ eslowly and with much care. Facility and 
speed are the fruit of practice. We must be cautious, how- 
ever, not to retard the course of thought, nor cool the ar- 
dour of imagination on every word. On certain occasions, 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 23 

a glow of composition must be kept up, if we hope to express 
ourselves happily, though at the expense of some inaccu- 
racies. A more severe examination must be the work of 
correction. What we have written should be laid by, for 
some time, till the ardour of composition is past; till par- 
tiality for our expressions be weakened, and the expressions 
themselves forgotten ; and then, reviewing our work with 
a cool and critical eye, as if it were the performance of 
another, we shall discover many imperfections which at 
first escaped us. It is then the season for pruning redun- 
dancies ; for examining the arrangement of sentences; and 
for bringing style into a regular and correct form. To this 
labour of correction, all those must submit who would com- 
municate their thoughts to others with proper advantage ; 
and some practice in it will soon render the task more easy 
and practicable than might be at first imagined. 

In the third place, acquaintance with the style of the best 
authors is peculiarly requisite. Hence a just taste will be 
formed, and a copious fund of words supplied on every sub- 
ject. No exercise will, perhaps, be found more useful for 
acquiring a proper style, than translating some passage 
from an eminent author into our own words. Thus, to take, 
for instance, a page of one of Addison's Spectators, and read 
it attentively two or three times, till we are in full possession 
of the thoughts it contains ; then to lay aside the book ; to 
endeavour to write out the pasage from memory as well as 
we can ; and then to compare what we have written with 
the style of the author. Such an exercise will show us our 
defects, will teach us to correct them, and from the variety 
of expressions which it will exhibit, will conduct us to that 
which is most beautiful.* 

In the fourth place, we must beware of falling into a ser- 
vile imitation of any author however celebrated. Imitation 
is always dangerous. It fetters genius, and is likely to 
produce a stiff manner. Those who are addicted to close 
imitation, generally imitate an author's faults as well as his 
beauties. No one will ever become a good writer or speaker, 
who has not some confidence in his own genius. We ought, 
therefore, carefully to avoid the using of any author's pe- 
culiar phrases, and of transcribing passages from him. 
Such a habit will be fatal to all genuine composition. It is 

* Our method affords another kind of exercise — see Exercise in Rheto^ 
lical Analysis, page 25. 



24 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

much better to have something of our own, though of mo- 
derate beauty, than to share in borrowed ornaments, which 
will, at last, betray the poverty of our genius. 

In the fifth place, those who are ambitious of attaining 
a chaste style, ought to study, with attention, the works 
of the most eminent poets. From this source, is often 
derived a more delicate and elevated mode of expression, as 
well as of thinking. We, accordingly, find that the most 
excellent prose-writers, both in ancient and modern times, 
are those who, during some part of their lives, have applied 
themselves to the study of poetry. It will be sufficient to 
mention the names of Plato, Cicero, Temple, Dryden, 
Pope, Addison, Melmoth, Johnson, Goldsmith, Fenelon, 
and Voltaire. 

In the sixth place, always adapt your style to the subject, 
and likewise to the capacity of your readers or hearers. 
To attempt a poetical style, when it is our business only to 
reason, is absurd in the highest degree. To speak with 
elaborate pomp of words, before those who cannot com- 
prehend them, is equally ridiculous. When we are to 
write or speak, we should previously fix in our minds, a 
clear idea of the end aimed at, keep this steadily in view, 
and regulate our style accordingly. 

In the seventh place, let not attention to style so much oc- 
cupy our minds, as to prevent a higher degree of attention 
to the thoughts. This rule is more necessary, since the 
present taste is more directed to style than to thought. It 
is much more easy to dress up trifling and common thoughts 
with some beauty of expression, than to afford a fund of 
vigorous, ingenious and useful sentiments. The latter re- 
quires genius ; the former may be attained by industry. 
Hence we are pestered with that crowd of writers, who, 
though rich in style, are poor in sentiment. Custom obliges 
us to be attentive to the ornaments of style, if we wish our 
labours to be read and admired : but he is a contemptible 
writer, who looks not beyond the dress of language, who 
lays not the chief stress upon his matter, and employs not 
such sentiments of style to recommend it as are manly, not 
foppish. 

In the eighth place, Reading will be found of universal 
advantage, not only as it respects our improvement in style ; 
but, likewise, in other matters, at least, equal in im- 
portance. In perusing the writings of sensible men we 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 25 

have frequent opportunities of examining our own hearts, 
and thereby attaining a more certain knowledge of our- 
selves. For we find that we are sensibly touched with in- 
cidents, or reflections of a certain nature ; and, on the con- 
trary, that we pass over others without the least emotion. 
Thus it is easy to discourse on which of our passions pre- 
dominate, and which, consequently, require the most atten- 
tion. We learn to love virtue and to shun vice. By read- 
ing, we also learn to judge of the different styles of various 
authors, and insensibly improve our own. If we happen 
to be blessed with a strong memory, we not only recollect 
frequent lessons and examples for our own conduct, but have 
many opportunities of instructing those with whom we 
converse : and if our memories are the most extraordinary, 
it is very certain, that reading will, at least by degrees, 
improve our taste, our understanding, and our mode of ex- 
pressing ourselyes, whether by writing or elocution. 



EXERCISE IN RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. 

COMBAT OF THE HORATII AND THE CURIATII. 

The description of this combat is, certainly, one of the 
most beautiful passages in Livy, and the most proper to 
teach youth how to adorn a narration with natural and in- 
genious thoughts. In order to know the art and delicacy 
of this fine passage, we need only to reduce it to a simple 
relation, by divesting it of all its ornaments, without, how- 
ever, omitting any essential circumstance. I shall mark 
the different parts by different figures, in order the better to 
distinguish and compare them afterwards, with the narra- 
tive itself, as we find it in Livy. 

SIMPLE RELATION. 

1. The treaty being- concluded, the three brothers on each 
side take arms according- to agreement. 

2. They advance immediately between the two armies. 

3. The two armies remain on either side near their camps 
anxiously gazing upon this sight. } 
( 4. The signal is given ; the three young men, with hostile 
intentions, march up from each side. 

5. When they had contended with equal strength for some 
3 



26 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOU COMPOSITION. " 

time, two Romans were killed, and the three wounded Albans 
pursued the third Roman. 

6. They surrounded, the remaining Roman ; fortunately he 
was yet unwounded. Then, in order to separate the comba- 
tants, he took to flight, being persuaded that they would follow 
him with more or less expedition. 

7. Having fled a considerable space from the spot where they 
had fought, Horatius looked back and saw the Curiatii pur- 
suing him at great distances from each other, and one of them 
very near ; upon which he turns and kills him. 

8. Immediately he runs to his second enemy, and kills him 
also. 

9. Already the number of combatants is equal on both sides. 

10. The triumphant Roman cries, ^ I have sacrificed the 
first two to the manes of my brothers ; I will now sacrifice the 
third to my country." Then he kills him, and takes his spoils. 

11. The Romans gratefully receive Horatius. 

12. After this, the two armies bury their dead. 

The business is to enlarge upon this narration, and to 
enrich it with thoughts and images which may engage and 
strike the reader in a lively manner, and represent this ac- 
tion to him in such a light that he may imagine he does not 
read, but see it, in which the greatest power of eloquence 
consists. To effect this, we need only consult nature, by 
carefully studying the emotions, and examining attentively 
what must have passed in the hearts of the Horatii and Cu- 
riatii, of the Romans and Albans, upon the occasion, and to 
paint every circumstance in such lively, and at the same 
time such natural, colors, that we imagine we are specta- 
tors of the combat. This, Livy performs in a surprising 
manner. 

1. The treaty being concluded, the three brothers on each 
side lake arms according to agreement. 

2. While each party are exhorting their respective cham- 
pions to do their duty, by representing that their gods, their 
country, their fathers and mothers, the whole city and army 
had their eyes fixed on their svjords and actions ; those gene- 
rous combatants, brave of themselves, and still more invigo- 
rated by such pressing exhortations, advance between the two 
armies. 

It was natural for each party to exhort their own chanu 
pions, and represent to them that all their country had their 
eyes Upon their combat. This is a fine thought, but it is 
very much improved by the manner of turning it. An ex- 
hortation more at length would be cold and languid. In 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 27 

reading the last words, we imagine we see those generous 
combatants advancing between the two armies with a noble, 
intrepid air of defiance. 

3. They were ranged on both sides round the field of battle, 
being more uneasy on account of the consequences to the state, 
than of the danger to which themselves were exposed, because 
the combat was to decide which of the two nations should gov- 
ern the other ; and so, being agitated with these reflections, and 
solicitous about the event, they gave their whole attention to a 
fight which could not but alarm them. 

Nothing was more suitable here than this thought : being 
more uneasy on account of the consequences to the state, than 
of the danger to which themselves were exposed. 

4. The signal is given; the champions march three and 
three against each other, themselves alone inspired with the 
courage of armies. Both sides, insensible of their own danger, 
have nothing before their eyes, but the slavery or liberty of their 
country, whose future destiny depends wholly upon their valor. 
The moment the clashing of their weapons is heard, and the 
glitter of their swords is seen, the spectators, seized with fear 
and alarm, [while hope of success inclined to neither side,) con- 
tinued motionless, so that one would have said they had lost 
the use of their speech, and even of breath. 

Nothing can be added to the noble idea which Livy gives 
us of these combatants in this place. The three brothers 
were on each side like whole armies, and had the courage 
of armies ; insensible of their own danger, they thought of 
nothing but the fate of the public, confided entirely to their 
personal valor. Two noble thoughts, and founded in truth ! 
But can any one read what follows, and not be seized with 
equal korror and trembling with the spectators of the fight ? 
The expressions are all poetical in this place, and youth 
must be told that poetical expressions, which are to be used 
seldom and very sparingly, were requisite, from the gran- 
deur of the subject, and the necessity there was to describe 
so glorious a spectacle in a suitable pomp of words. 

The mournful silence which kept both sides in a manner 
suspended and immoveable, turned immediately into accla- 
mations of joy on the side of the Albans, when they saw 
two of the Horatii killed. The Romans, on the other hand, 
lost all hope, and were in the utmost anxiety. Alarmed 
and trembling for the surviving Horatius, who was to corcu 
bat three antagonists, they had no thought but of the danger 



28 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

he was in. Was not this the real sense of both armies, 
after the fall of the two Horatii 1 and is not the picture, 
which Livy has given us of it, very natural 1 

5. Afterwards, when they began to engage, not only the mo- 
Hon of their hands, and the brandishing of their weapons, drew 
the eyes, of the spectators, but the wounds and blood running 
down j the three Albans were wounded, and. two of the Romans 
fell lifeless to the ground. Upon their falling, the Alban army 
shouted aloud, whilst the Roman legions remained without hope, 
but not anxiety, trembling for the surviving Roman, surround* 
ed by the three Albans. 

I shall give the remainder of this quotation with little or 
no reflection, to avoid a tedious prolixity. I must only ob- 
serve to the pupil, that the chief beauty of this relation, as 
well as of history in general, according to Cicero's judicious 
remark, consists in the surprising variety which runs through 
the whole, and the different emotions of fear, anxiety, hope, 
joy, despair, and grief, occasioned by the sudden altera- 
tions, and unexpected vicissitudes, which rouse the atten- 
tion by an agreeable surprise, keep the reader in a kind of 
suspense, and give him incredible pleasure, even from that 
uncertainty, especially where the narration concludes with 
an affecting and singular event. It will be easy to apply 
these principles to everything that follows. 

6. Happily the Roman was not wounded: thus, being too 
weak against three, though superior to any one of them single, 
he had recourse to a stratagem. In order to divide his adver- 
saries, hefted, being persuaded they would follow him with more 
or less expedition, as their strength, after so much loss of blood, 
would permit. 

7. Having fed a considerable space from the spot where they 
fought, he looked, back and saw the Curiatii pursuing him at 
great distances from each other, and one of them very near ; 
upon which he turned, and charged him vrith all his force, and 
v:hile the Alban army were crying out to his brothers to succor 
him, Horatius, who had already slain the first enemy, runs to 
a second victory. 

8. The Romans then encourage their champion with great 
shouts, such as generally proceed from unexpected joy. Hora- 
tius hastens to put an end to the second combat ; and in this 
manner, before the other combatant, who was not far off, could 
come up to assist his brother, he killed him also. 

9. There remained now but one combatant on each side; but 
though their number was equal, their strength and hope were 
far from being so. The Roman, without a wound, and flushed 



INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 29 

with his double victory , advances with great confidence to his 
third combat. His antagonist, on the contrary, weak from the 
loss of blood, spent with running, and already vanquished by 
the death of his brothers, encounters the victor. But this could 
not be called a combat. 

How beautiful are the thoughts and expressions ! how 
lively the images and descriptions ! how admirable is the 
opposition between what precedes and what follows ! 

10. The Roman then cried out, with an air of triumph, a I 
have sacificed the first two to the manes of my brothers ; I will 
now sacrifice the third to my country, that Rome may subdue 
Alba , and give laws to it. Curiatius being scarce able to carry 
his arms, Horatius thrusts his sword into his breast, and- af- 
terwards takes Ms spoils* 

11. The Romans receive Horatius with a joy and acknow- 
ledgment, proportioned to the danger they had escaped. 

12. After this, each party apply themselves to burying their 
dead, but with sentiments widely different ; the Romans having 
enlarged their empire, and the Albans become the subjects of a 
foreign power. 

I believe nothing is more capable of forming the taste of 
young people, both for reading authors and writing compo- 
sition, than to propose such passages as these to them, and 
to habituate them to discover their beauties without any as- 
sistance, by stripping them of all their embellishments, and 
reducing them to simple propositions, as we have done here. 



NEW ZETETIC METHOD 

FOR ENGLISH COMPOSITION. 



Uart JJTiurtr. 



NARRATIONS ANI> LETTERS, 



NARRATIONS - precepts.— Swift. 

There is one kind of conversation which every one aims 
at, and every one almost fails in ; it is that of story -telling. 
I know not any thing which engages our attention with more 
delight, when a person has a sufficient stock of talents ne- 
cessary for it, such as good sense, true humour, a clear 
head, a ready command of language, and a variety of proper 
gesture, to give life and spirit to what he says. If any of 
these be wanting, the listeners, instead of being diverted, 
are disobliged ; but if the person be utterly void of them 
all, as is very often the case, he becomes a nuisance to the 
company, and they are so long upon the rack as he speaks. 
It has sometimes fallen to my lot, that a man whom I never 
offended, has laid me under the persecution of a long story, 
and compelled me to hear what concerned neither him or 
me, nor indeed any body else, and at the same time he was 
as much in earnest as if both our lives and fortunes, and 
the felicity of the whole kingdom, depended upon what he 
said. A humour very unaccountable ! That a man shall 
be letting off words for an hour or two, with a very innocent 
intention, and after he has done his best, only makes me 
uneasy, and himself contemptible. 

This natural infirmity in men is not only confined to 
story -telling, but it appears likewise in every essay whatso- 
ever of their intellectuals. As for instance ; if one of these 



82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

be a preacher of God's word, by far-fetched criticisms, 
numerous divisions and subdivisions, incoherent digressions, 
tedious repetitions, useless remarks, weak answers to strong 
objections, inferences to no premises, tedious exhortations, 
and many other methods of protraction, he should draw you 
out a discourse for an hour and a quarter, unequally dis- 
pensing opium and edification to his flock, there being seven 
sleepers to one hearer. If he be a lawyer, he shall, by an 
uncommon way s of amusement, run away with a subject 
which might be explained in two minutes, and dilate upon 
it two hours, with such a volubility of tongue, such affluence 
of expression, with something so like a good style and man- 
ner of thinking, that the judges and jury attend with as 
much gravity, as if there was a continued chain of true 
reason and solid argument. If he be a member of the upper 
or lower house, he does not proceed four sentences before 
the rest know where to have him an hour hence ; in the 
mean time they divert one another, in talking of matters in- 
different, till the gentleman has done. I could give many 
more instances, but I think these sufficient for my present 
purpose ; besides, lest I should incur the like reproach my- 
self, I shall, in a few words, divide the story-tellers into the 
short, the long, the marvellous, the insipid, and the delightful. 

The short story-teller is he who tells a great deal in few 
words, engages your attention, pleases your imagination, 
or quickly excites your laughter. Of this rank were 
Xenophon, Plutarch, Macrobitus, among the ancients. 

When the Nepheli of Aristophanes, a satire upon Socrates, 
was acting, his friend desired him to retire, and hide behind 
them. " No," said Socrates, " I will stand up here, where 
I may be seen ; for now I think myself like a good feast, 
and that every one has a share of me." 

Brasidas, the famous Lacedsemonian general, caught a 
mouse : it bit him, and by that means made its escape. li O 
Jupiter," said he, " what creature so contemptible but 
may have its liberty, if it will contend for it." 

Diogenes having sailed to Chios, while it was under the 
dominion of the Persians, said, in a full assembly, " the 
inhabitants were fools for erecting a college and building 
temples, since the Persians would not allow them the pri- 
vilege of making their own priests, but sent them over the 
most illiterate of their magi." 

Augustus, while he was encamped with his army some- 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 33 

where near Mantua, was disturbed three nights successive- 
ly, by the hooting of an owl. Proclamation was made to 
the soldiers, that whoever caught the offender (so that he 
might be brought to justice) should have an ample reward 
for his pains. Every one was loyally engaged in the pur- 
suit of this bird : at last, one more vigilant than the rest 
found him in a hollow tree, and carried him in triumph 
to the emperor, who saw him with the greatest joy, but 
gave the soldier a sum of money so far below his expec- 
tation, that he let the owl fly away that instant. So true 
a sense of liberty ran through the very meanest of the 
Romans ! 

The long story -teller is one who tells little or nothing in a 
great number of words. For this, many among the moderns 
are famous, and among ourselves in this kingdom, we have 
a vast number of the better sort. As well as I can remember, 
there are six deans, four judges, six-and-thirty counsellors at 
law, sixty-five attorneys, some few fellows of the college, 
every alderman throughout the whole nation, except one, 
all old gentlemen and ladies, without exception, five of the 
college of physicians, three or four lords, two hundred 
squires, and some few people of distinction beside. 

I shall here insert a fragment of a long story, by way of 
example, containing a hundred and twenty-nine words, 
which might have been said in the ten following, viz : 
Nine years ago I was to preach for a friend . 

" I remember once, I think it was about seven years ago 
— no, I mistake — it was about nine years ago, for it was 
just when my wife was lying-in of Dicky ; I remember 
particularly the mid-wife would have had me stay to keep 
her company, and it was the heaviest day of storm and 
rain that I ever saw before or since ; but because I was en- 
gaged to preach for a very worthy friend of mine, who lived 
about twenty miles off, and this being Saturday, I could not 
defer it to the next morning, though I had an excellent nag, 
which could have rid it in three hours. I bought him of a 
neighbour, one Mr. Masterson ; yet, because I would not 
put my friend in a fright," &c. Thus far he went in one 
minute. The story lasted an hour, so that, upon a fair 
computation, he spoke 7,740 words instead of 600, by which 
means he made use of 7,140 more than he had occasion for. 
If a right application were made of this hint, which I have 
given, it would be of admirable effect in the despatch of 



34 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

public business, as well as private conversation, nay, in 
the very writing of books, for which I refer the reader to 
the fable of the Bees, and the two elaborate treatises written 
by the learned Mr. H n. 

The marvellous is he who is fond of telling such things 
as no man alive, who has the least use of his reason, can 
believe. This humour prevails very much in travellers, 
and the vain-glorious ; but is very pardonable, because no 
man's faith is imposed upon, nor does any ill consequence 
attend persons seriously extravagant, expecting another 
should give credit to what he knows impossible for the great- 
est dunce to swallow. 

One of these, who had travelled to Damascus, told his 
company, that the bees of that country were as big as tur- 
keys. " Pray, sir," said a gentleman, (begging pardon for 
the question,) " how large were the hives ?" " The same 
size with ours," replied the traveller. " Very strange," 
said the other, " but how got they into their hives ?" 
" That is none of my business ; egad, let them look to that." 

Another, who had travelled as far as Persia, spoke to his 
man John, as he was returning home, telling him how ne- 
cessary it was that a traveller should draw things beyond 
the life, otherwise he could not hope for that respect from 
his countrymen which otherwise he might have. " But 
at the same time, John," said he, " wheresoever I shall dine 
or sup, keep you close to my chair, and if I do very much 
exceed the bounds of truth, punch me behind, that I may 
correct myself." It happened that he dined one day with a 
certain gentleman, who shall be nameless, when he af- 
firmed that he saw a monkey, in the island of Borneo, which 
had a tail three-score yards long. John punched him. " I 
am certain it was fifty at least." John punched again. " I 
believe, to speak within compass, for I did not measure, it 
must have been forty." John gave him another touch. " I 
remember, it lay over a quickset edge, and therefore could 
not be less than thirty." John at him again. "I could 
take my oath it was twenty." This did not satisfy John. 
Upon which the master turned about in a rage, and said : 
" John, you are a fool ! would you have the monkey without 
any tail at all ?" 

Did not the famous Dr. Burnet, whose history is much of 
the same stamp with his travels, affirm that he saw an ele- 
phant play at ball ! And that grave gentleman, Ysbrants 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 35 

Ides, in his travels through Muscovy to China, assures us 
that he saw elephants which were taught to low like cows, to 
yell like tigers, and to mimic the sounding of a trumpet; 
but their highest perfection, as he relates it, was that of 
singing like canary-birds. However, this is not so marvel- 
lous, (for Pliny relates wonderful things of their docility,) 
as what a gentleman told a full company, in my hearing, 
within this fortnight, that he had seen a show at Bristol, 
which was a hare, taught to stand upon her hind legs, and 
bow to all the company, to each person in particular, with 
a very good grace, and then proceed to beat several marches 
on the drum. After this, a dog was set upon the table. 
His master, the showman, made many grievous complaints 
against him, for high crimes and misdemeanors. The hare 
knits her brows, kindles her eyes like a lady, falls into a 
passion, attacks the dog with all her rage and fury, as if 
she had been his wife, scratches, bites, and cuffs him round 
the table, till the spectators had enough for their money. 

There is a certain gentleman, now in Ireland, most re- 
markably fond of the marvellous, (but this through vanity.) 
who, among infinite number of like rarities, says that he has 
a carp in a pond, by itself, which has, for twenty years past, 
supplied him and his friends with a very good dish of fish, 
when they either came to dine or sup with him ; and that 
the manner of it is thus : " The cook-maid goes with a 
large kitchen-knife, which has a whistle in its handle ; she 
no sooner blows it, but the carp comes to the sluice and 
turns up its belly, till she cuts out as much as she has oc- 
casion for, and then away it scuds. The chasm is filled in 
a day or two, and the carp is as sound as a roach, ready for 
the knife again. " 

I should be glad to spend an evening with half a dozen 
gentlemen of this uncommon genius ; for I am certain they 
would improve upon one another, and thereby I might have 
an opportunity of observing how far the marvellous could 
be carried, or whether it has any bounds at all. 

The insipid, who may not unfitly be called soporific, is 
one who goes plodding on in a heavy, dull relation of un- 
important facts. You shall have an account from such a 
person, of every minute circumstance which happened in 
the company where he has been, what he did, and what 
they did, what they said, and what he said, with a million 
of trite phrases, with and so on beginning every sentence ; 



36 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

and to make a long story short, and as I was saying, with 
many more expletives of equal signification. It is a most 
dreadful thing, when men have neither the talent of speak- 
ing, nor the discretion of holding their tongues, and that, of 
all people, such as are least qualified, are commonly the 
most earnest in this way of conversation. 

The delightful story-teller is one who speaks not a word 
too much, or too little ; who can, in a very careless man- 
ner, give a great deal of pleasure to others, and desires 
rather to divert than be applauded ; who shows good un- 
derstanding, and a delicate turn of wit in every thino- 
which comes from him ; who can entertain his company 
better with the history of a child and its hobby-horse, than 
one of the soporific can with an account of Alexander and 
Bucephalus. Such a person is not unlike a bad reader, 
who makes the most ingenious piece his own, that is dull 
and detestable, by only coming through his mouth. 



STRATAGEM OF COLUMBUS— 1504. 

Argument. — Columbus, after his shipwreck at Jamaica and 
the mutiny of Porras, had succeeded in providing for the safety 
of the Spaniards who had remained faithful to him. — But they 
soon felt the scarcity of provisions. — You will describe this scar- 
city at length. — Apprehensions of famine. — Hope of the Indians. 

In this situation, Columbus preserved a wonderful presence of 
mind. From his knowledge of astronomy, he ascertained that 
within three days there would be a total eclipse of the moon.— 
He sent his interpreter to the Indians to invite them to a con- 
ference. 

On the third day, Columbus told the Indians, that the God 
whom he adored always watched over his worshippers, and that 
he intended to punish the Indians for their want of faith, — Colum- 
bus prophesied that a phenomenon would take place in the hea- 
vens that very evening. — Some Indians are alarmed, and others 
make sport of the prediction. 

You will briefly describe the commencement of an eclipse of 
the moon. — You will describe the terror and despair of the sava- 
ges. — They supplicate Columbus. — He answers that he must 
consult his God. — He retires to his cabin. 

When the eclipse was on the point of diminishing, Columbus 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 37 

presents himself and tells the Indians that he has interceded for 
them, and that his God had promised to pardon the Indians if 
they would fulfil their promises. — Diminution t)f the eclipse.—- 
Astonishment of the Indians. — They promise to furnish Colum- 
bus with every thing. 

NARRATION .--Irving. 

Columbus, after his shipwreck at Jamaica, and the mu- 
tiny of Porras, concealed his own anxiety and maintained 
a serene and even cheerful countenance. He encouraged 
his men by pleasant words, and held forth confident antici- 
pations of speedy relief. The sweet words of a command- 
er are as balm to the hearts of his followers, when in trou- 
ble. By his kind and careful treatment, Columbus soon 
recruited both the health and spirits of his people, and 
brought them all into a condition to contribute to the com- 
mon safety. Judicious regulations, calmly but firmly en- 
forced, maintained every thing in order. 

Columbus had thus succeeded in guarding against the in- 
ternal ills that threatened the safety of his little communi- 
ty, when alarming evils began to menace from without. 
The Indians, being an improvident race, unused to lay up 
any stock of provisions, and unwilling to subject themselves 
to extra labor, found it difficult to furnish the quantity of 
food daily required for so many hungry men. The Euro- 
pean trinkets, once so precious, lost their value in propor- 
tion as they became common. 

By degrees, therefore, the supplies began to fall off The 
Spaniards were obliged to forage about the neighborhood 
for their daily food, but found more and more difficulty in 
procuring it ; and now, in addition to their other causes for 
despondency, they began to entertain horrible apprehen- 
sions of famine. 

The admiral heard the melancholy forebodings of his 
men, and beheld the growing evil, but was at a loss for a 
remedy. To resort to force was an alternative full of dan- 
ger, and of but temporary efficacy. It would require all 
those who were well enough to bear arms to sally forth, 
while he and the rest of the infirm would be left defence- 
less on board of the wreck, exposed to the vengeance of the 
natives. 

In the mean time, the scarcity daily increased. The 
Indians perceived the wants of the white men, and had 
4 



g8 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOE COMP'OSITiOfl* 

learnt from them the art of making bargains. They asked 
ten times the former quantity of European articles in scan- 
ty quantities, to enhance the eagerness of the hungry Span- 
iards. At length, even this relief ceased, and there was 
an absolute distress for want of food. It appeared that the 
jealousy of the natives had been universally aroused by 
Porras and his followers, and they withheld all provisions, 
in hopes either of starving the admiral and his people or 
driving them from the island. 

In this extremity a fortunate idea suddenly presented it- 
self to Columbus. From his knowledge of astronomy, he 
ascertained that within three days there would be a total 
eclipse of the moon, in the early part of the night. He 
sent, therefore, an Indian of the island of Hispaniola, who 
served as his interpreter, to summon the principal caciques 
to a grand conference, appointing for it the day ot the 
eclipse When all were assembled, he told them, by his 
interpreter, that he and his followers were the worshippers o* 
a deity who lived in the skies. That this deity favored such 
as did well, but punished all transgressors. That, as they 
must have noticed, he had protected Diego Mendez and his 
companions in their voyage, they having gone in obedience to 
the orders of their commander ; but that, on the other hand, he 
had visited Porras and his companions with all kinds of cross- 
es and afflictions, in consequence of their rebellion. 1 hat 
this great deity was incensed against the Indians, who had 
refufed or neglected to furnish his faithful worshippers with 
provisions, and intended to chastise them with famine and 
nesuence Lest they should disbelieve this warning, a 
£al would be given that very night in the heavens. 
They would behold the moon change its color and gradu- 
ally lose its light : a token of the fearful punishment which 

^ManVofTh'e Indians were alarmed at the solemnity of 
this prediction, others treated it with scoffing ; all however 
awaited with solicitude the coming of the night. When 
they beheld a dark shadow stealing over the moon, they 
be/an to tremble. Their fears increased with the progress 
of The ee Ipse ; and when they saw mysterious darkness 
covering the whole face of nature, there were no bounds to 
E error. Seizing upon whatever provisions they could 
procure, they hurriS to the ships, uttering ones an la- 
mentations. They threw themselves at the feet of Colum 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 39 

bus, implored him tojntercede with his God to withhold the 
threatened calamities, and assured him that thenceforth 
they would bring him whatever he required. Columbus 
told them he would retire and commune with the deity. 
Shutting himself up in his cabin, he remained there during 
the increase of the eclipse, the forests and shores all the 
while resounding with the howlings and supplications of the 
savages. 

When the eclipse was about to diminish, he came forth 
and informed the natives that he had interceded for them 
with his God, who, on condition of their fulfilling their 
promises, had deigned to pardon them ; in sign of which 
he would withdraw the darkness from the moon. 

When the Indians saw that planet restored presently to 
its brightness, and rolling in all its beauty through the fir- 
mament, they overwhelmed the admiral with thanks for his 
intercession, and repaired to their homes, joyful at having 
escaped such great disasters. They now regarded Colum- 
bus with awe and reverence, as a man in the peculiar 
favor and confidence of the deity, since he knew upon 
earth what was passing in the heavens. They hastened to 
propitiate him with gifts ; supplies again arrived daily at 
the harbor, and from that time forward there was no want 
of provisions. 



LETTERS— precepts. — Johnson. 

" It was the wisdom," says Seneca, " of ancient times, 
to consider what is most useful as most illustrious." If this 
rule be applied to works of genius, scarcely any species of 
composition deserves to be more cultivated than the epistola- 
ry style, since none is of more various or frequent use through 
the whole subordination of human life. 

It has yet happened that, among the numerous writers 
which our nations has produced, equal perhaps always in 
force and genius, and of late in elegance and accuracy, to 
those of any other country, very few have endeavored to 
distinguish themselves by the publication of letters, except 
such as were written in the discharge of public trusts, and 
during the transaction of great affairs ; which, though they 
afford precedents to the minister, and memorials to the 
historian, are of no use as examples of the familiar style, 
or models of private correspondence* 



40 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

If it be inquired by foreigners how this deficiency has 
happened in the literature of a country where all indulge 
themselves, with so little danger, in speaking and writing, 
may we not, without either bigotry or arrogance, inform them, 
that it must be imputed to our contempt of trifles, and our 
due sense of the dignity of the public ? We do not think it 
reasonable to fill the world with volumes from which nothing 
can be learned, nor expect that the employment of the busy ? 
or the amusements of the gay, should give way to the nar- 
ratives of our private affairs, complaints of absence, expres- 
sions of fondness, or declamations of fidelity. 

A slight perusal of the innumerable letters by which the 
wits of France have signalized their names, will prove that 
other nations need not be discouraged from the like attempts 
by the consciousness of inability ; for, surely, it is not 
very difficult to aggravate trifling misfortunes, to magnify 
familiar incidents, repeat adulatory professions, accumulate 
servile hyperboles, and produce all that can be found in the 
despicable remains of Voiture and Scarron. 

But as much of life must be passed in affairs considerable 
only by their frequent occurrence, and much of the pleasure 
which our condition allows must be produced by giving 
elegance to trifles, it is necessary to learn how to become 
little without becoming mean, to maintain the necessary 
intercourse of civility, and fill up the vacuities of actions 
by agreeable appearances. It had, therefore, been of advan- 
tage, if such of our writers, as have excelled in the art of 
decorating insignificance, had supplied us with a few sallies 
of innocent gaiety, effusions of honest tenderness, or excla- 
mations of unimportant hurry. 

Precept has generally been posterior to performance. 
The art of composing works of genius has ever been taught 
by the example of those who performed it, by the natural 
vigour of imagination and rectitude of judgment. As we 
have few letters, we have likewise few criticisms upon the 
epistolary style. The observations with which Walsh has 
introduced his pages of inanity, are such as give him little 
claim to the rank assigned him, by Dryden, among the 
critics : — ■" Letters,' 9 said he, " are intended as resemblances 
of conversation ; and the chief excellencies of conversation 
are good humour and good breeding.' 9 This remark, 
equally valuable for its novelty and propriety, he dilates and 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 41 

enforces with an appearance of complete acquiescence in 
his own discovery. 

No man was ever in doubt about the moral qualities of a 
letter. It has been always known, that he who endeavours 
to please, must appear pleased ; and he who would not 
provoke rudeness, must not practise it. But the question 
among those who establish rules for an epistolary perfor- 
mance is, how gaiety or civility may be properly express- 
ed, — as among the critics in history, it is not contested 
whether truth ought to be preserved, but by what mode of 
diction it is best adorned. 

As letters are written on all subjects, and in all states of 
mind, they cannot be properly reduced to settled rules, or 
described by any single characteristic ; and we may safely 
disentangle our minds from critical embarrassments, by 
determining that a letter has no peculiarity but its form, 
and nothing is to be refused admission, which would be pro- 
per in any other method of treating the same subject. The 
qualities of the epistolary style most frequently required, 
are ease and simplicity ; and even flow of unlaboured dic- 
tion and an artless arrangement of obvious sentiments. 

But these directions are no sooner applied to use, than 
their scantiness and imperfection become evident. Letters 
are written to the great and to the mean, to the learned and 
the ignorant, at rest and in distress, in sport and in passion. 
Nothing can be more improper than ease and laxity of ex- 
pression, when the importance of the subject impresses sol- 
itude, or the dignity of the person exacts reverence. 

That letters should be written with strict conformity to 
nature, is true, because nothing but conformity to nature 
can make any composition beautiful or just. But it is na- 
tural to depart from familiarity of language upon occasions 
not familiar. Whatever elevates the sentiments will, con- 
sequently, raise the expressions; whatever fills us with 
hope or terror, will produce some perturbation of images, 
and some figurative distortions of phrase. Wherever we 
are studious to please, we are afraid of trusting our first 
thoughts, and endeavour to recommend our opinion by 
studied ornaments, accuracy of method, and elegance of 
style. 

If the personages of the comic scene be allowed, by Ho- 
race, to raise their language, in the transports of anger, to 
4* 



42 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

the turgid vehemence of tragedy, the epistolary writer may 
likewise, without censure, comply with the varieties of his 
matter. If great events are to be related, he may, with all 
the solemnity of an historian, deduce them from their caus- 
es, connect them with their concomitants, an/1 trace them to 
their consequences. If a disputed position is to be estab- 
lished, or a remote principle to be investigated, he may de- 
tail his reasonings with all the nicety of syllogistic method. 
If a menace is to be averted, or a benefit implored, he may ? 
without any violation of the edicts of criticism, call every 
power of rhetoric to his assistance, and try every inlet at 
which love or pity enters the heart. 

Letters that have no other end than the entertainment of 
the correspondent, are more properly regulated by critical 
precepts, because the matter andstyle are equally arbitrary* 
and rules are the more necessary as there is a larger pow- 
er of choice. In letters of this kind, some conceive art 
graceful, and others think negligence admirable ; some mo- 
del them by the sonnet, and will allow them no means of 
delighting but the soft lapse of calm mellifluence ; others 
adjust them by the epigram, and expect pointed sentences 
and forcible periods. The one party considers exemption 
from faults as the height of excellence, the other looks upon 
neglect of exactitude as the most disgusting fault ; one 
avoids censure, the other aspires to praise; one is always 
in danger of insipidity, the other continually on the brink of 
affectation. 

When the subject has no intrinsic dignity, it must neces- 
sarily owe its attractions to artificial embellishments, and 
may catch at all advantages which the art of writing can 
supply. He that, like Pliny, sends his friend a portion for 
his daughter, will, without Pliny's eloquence or address, 
find means of exciting gratitude, and securing acceptance; 
but he that has no present to make but a garland, a ribbon, or 
some petty curiosity, must endeavour to recommend it by 
his manner of giving it. 

The purpose for which letters are written, when no in- 
telligence is communicated, or business transacted, is to 
preserve, in the minds of the absent, either love or esteem : 
to excite love, we must impart pleasure ; and to raise es- 
teem, we must discover abilities. Pleasure will generally 
be given as abilities are displayed, by scenes of imagery, 
points of conceit, unexpected sallies, or artful compliments. 



I 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 43 

Trifles always require exuberance of ornament ; the build- 
ing which has no strength, can be valued only for the grace 
of its decorations. The pebble must be polished with care 
which hopes to be valued as a diamond ; and words ought 
surely to be laboured, when they are intended to stand for 
things. 



LETTER No. 1.— To Lord Palmerston. 

Dublin, Jan. 1, 1725. 

My Lord : I am desired by one Mr. Curtis, a clergyman 
of this town, to write to your lordship upon an affair he has 
much at heart, and wherein he has been very unjustly and 
injuriously treated. I d© now call to mind what I hear your 
lordship has written hither, that you were pleased many 
years ago, at my recommendation, to give Dr. Ellwood a 
grant of a chamber in the college, which is at your disposal. 
For I had then some credit with your lordship, which I am 
told I have now lost, although I am ignorant of the reason. 
I shall therefore only inform your lordship in one point : 
When you gave that grant, it was understood to continue 
during Dr. Ell wood's continuance in the college; but he 
growing to be a senior fellow, and requiring more conveni- 
ences, by changing one room, and purchasing another, got 
into a more convenient apartment, and therefore those who 
now derive under the doctor, have, during the doctor's life, 
the same property as if they derived under your lordship ; 
just as if one of your tenants should let his holding to 
another, during the term of his lease, and take a more 
convenient farm. This is directly the case, and must con- 
vince your lordship immediately : for, Mr. Curtis paid for 
the chamber, either to the doctor, or to those who derived 
under him, and till the doctor dies, or leaves the college, 
the grant is good. 

I will say nothing of Mr. Curtis's character, because the 
affair is a matter of short plain justice ; and, besides, be- 
cause I would not willingly do the young man an injury, 
as I happened to do to another* whom I recommended .to 
your lordship merely for your own service, and whom you 
* Mr. Stanton. 



44 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

afterward rejected, expressing your reason for doing so, 
that I had recommended him, by which you lost the very 
person of the whole kingdom who by his honesty and abili- 
ties could have been most useful to you in your offices here. 
But these are some of the refinements among you great 
men, which are above my low understanding. And, 
whatever your lordship thinks of me, I shall still remain 
Your lordship's most obedient 

and most humble servant, 

JONATH. SWIFT. 



LETTER No. 2.— From Lord P aimer ston. 

N. B. — Argument.—RQYe we mean the Letter No. 2, to which the pupil must 
write the primitive Letter, viz. No. 1, or write a reply, viz. No. 3. 

Jan. 15, 1725. 
Mr. Dean, (J. Swift) : 

I should not give myself the trouble to answer your polite let- 
ter, were I as unconcerned about character and reputation as 
some are. The principles of justice I hope I have learned from 
those who always treated you in another manner than you do me 
even without reason. 

You charge me with injury and injustice done Mr. Curtis : he 
is still in his chamber ; till he is turned out, none is done him, 
and he is satisfied with my proceedings, and the issue I have put 
it on. Your interest with me (which, if ever lost, such letters 
will not regain,) procured Dr. Ellwood the use of that chamber, 
not the power to job it. Your parallel case of landlord and tenant 
will not hold, without Dr. Ellwood has a writing under my hand ; 
if he has, I will fulfil it to a tittle ; if not, he is as a tenant at 
will, and when he quits, I am at liberty to dispose of the pre- 
mises again. 

Whoever told you Mr. Stanton was dismissed, because you 
recommended him, told you a most notorious falsehood; he is 
the young man I suppose you mean. The true reason was, his 
demand of a large additional salary, more than he had before my 
time ; so he left the office, and was not turned out. 

My desire is to be in charity with all men ; could I say as much 
of you, you had sooner inquired into this matter, or if you had 
any regard to a family you owe so much to ; but I fear you 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 45 

hugged the false report to cancel all feelings of gratitude that must 
ever glow in a generous breast, and to justify what you had de- 
clared, that no regard to the family was any restraint to you. 
These refinements are past my low understanding, and can only 
be comprehended by you great wits. 

I always thought in you I had a friend in Ireland, but find my- 
self mistaken. I am sorry for it : my comfort is, it is none of 
my fault. If you had taken any thing amiss, you might have 
known the truth from me. I shall always be as ready to ask 
pardon when I have offended, as to justify myself when I 
have not. 

I am, Sir, 

Your very humble servant, 

PALMERSTON. 



LETTER No. 3.— To Lord Palmerston. 

Jan. 29, 1725. 

My Lord : I desire you will give yourself the last trouble 
I shall ever put you to ; I mean of reading this letter. I 
do entirely acquit you of any injury or injustice done to 
Mr. Curtis, and if you had read that passage relating to 
his bad usage a second time, you could not possibly have so 
ill understood me. The injury and injustice he received 
were from those who claimed a title to his chambers, took 
away his key. reviled and threatened to beat him, with a 
great deal more of the like brutal conduct. Whereupon, 
at his request, I laid the case before you, as it appeared to 
me. And it would have been very strange, if on account 
of a trifle, and of a person for whom I have no concern, 
farther than as he was employed by me on the character he 
bears of piety and learning, I should charge you with in- 
jury and injustice to him, when I knew from himself, and 
Mr. Reading, that you were not answerable for either. 

As you state the case of tenant at will, it is certain no 
law can compel you ; but, to say the truth, I then had not 
law in my thoughts. 

Now, if what I wrote of injury and injustice were wholly 
applied in plain terms to one or two of the college here, 
whose names were below my remembrance, you will con- 
sider how I could deserve an answer, in every line full of 



46 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

foul invectives, open reproaches, jesting flirts, and contu- 
melious terms, and what title you have to give me such 
contumelious treatment, who never did you the least injury, 
or received the least obligation from you. I own myself 
indebted to Sir William Temple, for recommending me to 
the late king, although without success, and for his choice 
of me to take care of his posthumous writings. But I hope 
you will not charge my living in his family as an obligation, 
for I was educated to little purpose, if I retired to his house 
on any other motives than the benefit of his conversation 
and advice, and the opportunity of pursuing my studies. 
For, being born to no fortune, I was at his death as far to 
seek as ever, and perhaps you will allow that I was of some 
use to him. This I will venture to say, that in the time 
when I had some little credit, I did fifty times more for fifty 
people, from whom I never received the least service or 
assistance. Yet I should not be pleased to hear a rela- 
tion of mine reproaching them for ingratitude, although 
many of them well deserve it ; for, thanks to party, I have 
met in both kingdoms with ingratitude enough. 

If I have been ill informed in what you mention of Mr. 
Stanton, you have not been much better : that I declared no 
regard to the family (as you express it) was a restraint to 
me. I never had the least occasion to use any such words. 
The last time I saw you in London was the last intercourse 
I ever had with the family. But having always trusted to 
my own innocence, I shall not be inquisitive to know my 
accusers. 

When I mentioned my loss of interest with you, I did it 
with concern, but I had no resentment, because I supposed 
it only to arise from different sentiments in public matters. 

My lord, if my letter were polite, it was against my in- 
tentions, and I desire your pardon for it : if I have wit, I 
will keep it to show when I am angry, which at present I 
am not ; because, though nothing can excuse those intem- 
perate words your pen has let fall, yet I shall give allow- 
ance to a hasty person, hurried on by a mistake beyond all 
rules of decency. If a first minister of state had used me 
as you have done, he should have heard from me in another 
style, because, in that case, retaliating would be thought a 
mark of courage. But as your lordship is not in a situ- 
ation to do me good, nor, am I sure, of a disposition to do me 
mischief, so I should lose the merit of being bold, because I 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 4? 

could incur no danger, if 1 gave myself a liberty which 
your ill usage seemed to demand. In this point alone we 
are exactly equal, but in wit and politeness I am ready to 
yield to you, as much as I do in. titles and estates. 

I have found out one secret, that although you call me a 
great wit, you do not think me so, otherwise you would 
have been too cautious to have written me such a letter. 

You conclude with saying you are ready to ask pardon 
where you have offended. Of this I acquit you, because I 
have not taken the offence, but whether you will acquit 
yourself must be left to your conscience and honour. 

I have formerly upon occasion been your humble servant 
in Ireland, and should not refuseto be so still ; but you 
have so useful and excellent a friend in Mr. Reading, that 
you need no other, and I hope my good opinion of him will 
not lessen yours. I am, 

My lord, your most humble servant, 

JONATH. SWIFT. 



BATTLE OF HASTINGS— 1066. 

Argument: After some philosophical reflections upon the de^ 
scent of the Normans in England, you will say that William, at 
the head of his Normans, encountered the Anglo-Saxon army 
near Hastings. — You will contrast the manner in which the two 
armies passed the night before the battle, 

Before the commencement of the combat, the Normans chanted 
the war-songs of Charlemagne and Roland. — You will mention 
some of the burdens of these songs. 

The soldiers of William, animated by these patriotic song?, 
commence the combat. — You will describe the impetuosity of the 
Normans and the courage of their enemies. 

The Anglo-Saxons spread the rumor, that William had been 
killed. — The Normans, at first conquerors, fled in disorder.— Wil- 
liam threw himself in front of the fugitives, and stopped their 
flight. — The combat re-commences. — Harold, King of the Anglo- 
Saxons, is killed, as are also his two brothers. — Complete rout of 
the Anglo-Saxon army. 

William thanks Heaven for his victory. 



48 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION . 



N ARRATION .— Hume . 

The English and Normans now prepared themselves to 
fight ; but the aspect of things, on the night before the bat- 
tle, was very different in the two camps. The English 
spent the time in riot, and jollity, and disorder, the Nor- 
mans in silence, in prayer, and the other functions of their 
religion. On the morning, the duke called together the 
most considerable of his commanders, and made them a 
speech suitable to the occasion. The duke next divided his 
army into three lines : the first, headed by Montgomery, 
consisted of archers and light-armed infantry ; the second* 
commanded by Martel, was composed of his bravest battal- 
ions, heavy armed, and ranged in close order ; his cavalry, 
at whose head he placed himself, formed the third line, and 
were so disposed, that they stretched beyond the infantry* 
and flanked each wing of the army. He ordered the sig- 
nal of battle to be given ; and the whole army moving at 
once, and singing the hymn or song of Roland, the famous 
peer of Charlemagne, advanced, in order and with alacrity* 
towards the enemy. 

Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and 
having likewise drawn some trenches, to secure his flanks* 
he resolved to* stand upon the defensive, and to avoid all 
action with the cavalry, in which he was inferior. The 
Kentish men were placed in the van, a post which they had 
always claimed as their due : the Londoners guarded the 
standard ; and the king himself, accompanied by his two 
valiant brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, dismounting, placed 
himself at the head of his infantry, and expressed his reso- 
lution to conquer or to perish in the action. 

The first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was 
received with equal valour by the English, and, after a fu- 
rious combat, which remained long undecided, the former, 
overcome by the difficulty of the ground, and hard pressed 
by the enemy, began first to relax their vigour, then to re- 
treat ; and confusion was spreading among the ranks, when 
William, who found himself on the brink of destruction, 
hastened, with a select band, to the relief of his dismayed 
forces. His presence restored the action ; the English 

* This narrative differs a little from our argument, which we have 
taken from a French history. 



NARRATIONS AND LETTEitS. 49 

Were obliged to retire with loss; and the duke, ordering 
his second line to advance, renewed the attack with fresh 
forces and redoubled courage. Finding that the enemy, 
aided by the advantage of the ground, and animated by the 
example of their prince, still made a vigorous resistance, 
he tried a stratagem, which was very delicate in its man- 
agement, but which seemed advisable in his desperate situ- 
ation, where, if he gained not a decisive victory, he was to* 
tally undone. He commanded his troops to make a hasty 
retreat, and to allure the enemy from their ground by the 
appearance of flight* The artifice succeeded against these 
inexperienced soldiers, who, heated by the action, and san- 
guine in their hopes, precipitately followed the Normans 
into the plain. William gave orders, that at once the in- 
fantry should face about upon their pursuers, and the ca- 
valry make an assault upon their wings, and both of them 
pursue the advantage, which the surprise and terror of the 
enemy must give them in that critical and decisive mo- 
ment. The English were repulsed with great slaughter* 
and driven back to the hill ; where, being rallied again by 
the bravery of Harold, they were able, notwithstanding 
their loss, to maintain the post and continue the combat. 

The duke tried the same stratagem a second time, with 
the same success ; but even after his double advantage, he 
still found a great body of the English, who, maintaining 
themselves in firm array, seemed determined to dispute the 
victory to the last extremity. He ordered his heavy armed 
infantry to make an assault upon them, while his archers, 
placed behind, should gall the enemy, who were exposed 
by the situation of the ground, and who were intent in 
defending themselves against the swords and spears of the 
assailants. By this disposition, he at last prevailed. Ha- 
rold was slain by an arrow, while he was combatting with 
great bravery at the head of his men. His two brothers 
shared the same fate, and the English, discouraged by the 
fall of those princes, gave ground on all sides, and were 
pursued with great slaughter by the victorious Normans. 
A few troops, however, of the vanquished had still the cou- 
rage to turn uponjheir pursuers, and attacking them in deep 
and miry ground, obtained some revenge for the slaughter 
and dishonour of the day. But the appearance of the duke 
obliged them to seek their safety by flight ; and darkness 
saved them from any farther pursuit by the enemy. 
5 



50 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Thus was gained, by William, Duke of Normandy, the 
great and decisive victory of Hastings, after a battle which 
was fought from morning to sunset, and which seemed 
worthy, by the heroic feats of valour displayed by both 
armies and by both commanders, to decide the fate of a 
mighty kingdom. William had three horses killed under 
him, and there fell near fifteen thousand men on the side of 
the Normans. The loss was still more considerable on 
that of the vanquished, besides the death of the king and 
his two brothers. The dead body of Harold was brought 
to William, and was generously restored, without ransom, 
to his mother. The Norman army left riot the field of bat- 
tle without giving thanks to Heaven in the most solemn 
manner, for this victory : and the Prince, having refreshed 
his troops, prepared to push, to the utmost, his advantages 
against the divided, dismayed, and discomfited English. 



LETTER No. I.— To Lord Chesterfield. 

Nov. 10, 1730. 

My Lord : I was positively advised by a friend, whose 
opinion has much weight with me, and who has a great 
veneration for your lordship, to venture a letter of solicita- 
tion _: and it is the first request of this kind that I ever made, 
since the public changes in times, persons, measures, and 
opinions, drove me into distance and obscurity. 

There is an honest man, whose name is Launcelot ; he 
has been long a servant to my Lord Sussex : he married a 
relation of mine, a widow, with a tolerable jointure ; which, 
depending upon a lease which the Duke of Grafton suffer- 
ed to expire about three years ago, sunk half her little for- 
tune. Mr. Launcelot had many promises from the Duke 
of Dorset, while his grace held that office, which is now in 
your lordship; but they all failed, after the usual fate that 
the bulk of court suitors must expect. 

I am very sensible that I have no manner of claim to the 
least favour from your lordship, whom I have hardly the 
honour to be known to, although you were always pleased 
to treat me with much humanity, and with more distinction 
than I could pretend to deserve. I am likewise conscious 
of that demerit which I have largely shared with all those 
who concerned themselves in a court and ministry, whose 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 51 

maxims and proceedings have been ever since so much ex- 
ploded. But your lordship will grant mo leave to say, that 
in those times, when any persons of the ejected party came 
to court, and were of tolerable consequence, they never 
failed to succeed in any reasonable request they made for 
a friend. And when I sometimes added my poor solicita- 
tions, I used to quote the then ministers a passage in the 
Gospel, " The poor (meaning their own dependents) you 
have always with you, 55 &c. 

This is the strongest argument I have to entreat your 
lordship's favour for Launcelot, who is a perfectly honest 
man, and as loyal as you could wish. His wife, my near 
relation, has been my favourite from her youth, and as de- 
serving as it is possible for one of her level. It is under- 
stood, that some little employments about the court may 
be often in. your lordship's disposal ; and that my Lord Sus- 
sex will give Mr. Launcelot the character he deserves : and 
then let my petition be (to speak in my own trade) " a drop 
in the bucket. 5 ' 

Remember, my lord, that, although this letter be long, 
yet what particularly concerns my request is but of a few 
lines. 

I shall not congratulate with your lordship upon any of 
your present great employments, or upon the greatest that 
can possibly be given to you ; because you are one of those 
very few who do more honour to a court, than you can 
possibly receive from it ; which I take to be a greater com- 
pliment to any court than it is to your lordship. 
I am, my Lord, &c. 

JONATH. SWIFT. 



LETTER No. 2.— From Lord Chesterfield. 

N. B.— Argument.— Here we mean the Letter No. 2, to which the pupil must 
write the primitive Letter, viz. No. 1, or write a reply ', viz. No. 3. 

Hague, Dec. 15, 1730. 
Sir: You need not have made any excuses to me for your so- 
licitation : on the contrary, I am proud of being the first person to 
whom you have thought it worth your while to apply, since 
those changes, which, you say, drove you into distance and ob- 
scurity. I very well know the person you recommend to me, 
having lodged at his house a whole summer at Richmond. I 



52 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

have always heard a very good character of him, which alone 
would incline me to serve him : but your recommendation, I can 
assure you, will make me impatient to do it. However, that he 
may not again meet with the common fate of court suitors, nor I 
lie under the imputation of making court promises, I will exactly 
explain to you how far it is likely I may be able to serve him. 

When first I had this office, I took ihe resolution of turning 
out nobody ; so that I shall only have the disposal of those places 
that the death of the present possessors will procure me. Some 
old servants, that have served me long and faithfully, have ob- 
tained the promises of the first four or five vacancies ; and the early 
solicitations of some of my particular friends have tied me down 
for about as many more. But, after having satisfied these en- 
gagements, I do assure you, Mr. Launcelot shall be my first 
care. I confess his prospect is more remote than I could have 
wished it, but as it is so remote, he will not have the uneasiness 
of a disappointment, if he gets nothing; and if he gets some- 
thing, we shall both be pleased. 

As for his political principles, I am in no manner of pain about 
them. Were he a tory, I would venture to serve him, in the 
just expectation, that should I ever be charged with having pre- 
ferred a tory, the person who was the author of my crime would 
likewise be the author of my vindication. 
I am, with real esteem, sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

CHESTERFIELD. 



LETTER No. 3.— To Lord Chesterfield. 

Jan. 5, 1731. 
My Lord : I return your Lordship my most humble 
thanks for the. honour and favour of your letter; and de- 
sire your justice to believe, that, in writing to you a second 
time, I have no design of giving you a second trouble. My 
only end at present is, to beg your pardon for a fault of ig- 
norance. I ought to have remembered, that the arts of 
courts are like those of play ; where, if the most expert be 
absent for a few months, the whole system is so changed, 
that he has no more skill than a new beginner. Yet I can- 
not but wish, that your lordship had pleased to forgive one 
who has been an utter stranger to public life about sixteen 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS.^ 53 

years. Bussy Rabutin himself, the politest person of his 
age, when he was recalled to court after a long banishment, 
appeared ridiculous there : and what could I expect, from 
my antiquated manner of addressing your lordship, in the 
prime of your life, in the height of fortune, favour, and 
merit ; so distinguished by your active spirit, and greatness 
of your genius ? I do here repeat to your lordship, that I 
lay the fault of my misconduct entirely on a friend, whom 
I exceedingly love and esteem, whom I dare not name, and 
who is as bad a courtier by nature, as I am grown by want 
of practice. God forbid that your lordship should continue 
in an employment, however great and honourable, where 
you only can be an ornament to the court so long, until you 
have an opportunity to provide offices for a dozen low peo- 
ple like the poor man whom I took the liberty to mention ! 
and God forbid, that in one particular branch of the king's 
family, there should ever be such a mortality, as to take 
away a dozen of his meaner servants in less than a dozen 
years. 

Give me leave, in farther excuse of my weakness, to 
confess, that besides some hints from my friends, your lord- 
ship is in a great measure to blame for your obliging man- 
ner of treating me in every place where I had the honour 
to see you ; which I acknowledge to have been a distinc- 
tion that I had not the least pretence to, and consequently 
as little to ground upon it the request of a favour. 

As I am an utter stranger to the present forms of the 
world, I have imagined more than once, that your lordship's 
proceeding with me may be a refinement introduced by 
yourself: and that, as in my time the most solemn and fre- 
quent promises of great men usually failed, against all 
probable appearances, so that single slight one of your 
lordship may, by your generous nature, early succeed 
against all visible impossibilities. 

I am, &c. 

JONATH. SWIFT, 



5* 



54 NEW ZETETIC METHOD TOR COMPOSITION, 



AISGII1EIT§ 9 



THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL* 

You will say that spring had brought back fine weather, and 
that a young girl, the victim of consumption, seemed to recover 
as the air became milder. 

You will add, that, separated from her mother, the sensitive 
Amelia unceasingly sighed for her return* 

One day she received the sad news, that her mother was no 
more.-— Describe the grief of Amelia. 

At last, as autumn approached, and the leaves fell from the 
trees, the young girl, after a violent crisis, yielded to her disease* 
b*- While expiring, she begs that she may be buried in the same 
tomb with her mother. 

LETTER No. 2.— From a Father to his Son at School 

My Dear Child i I could not give a more convincing proof of 
my affection for you than in submitting to send you to so great a 
distance from me. I preferred your advantage to my own plea- 
sure, and sacrificed fondness to duty. 

I should have done this sooner; I waited till my inquiries had 
found out a person, whose character might be responsible for your 
education ; and Mr. A. B. was at length my choice for that im- 
portant trust* Your obedience, therefore* must be without mtir* 
muring or reluctance, especially when you reflect that a strict at- 
tention to his appointments, and an implicit compliance with his 
commands, are not only to form the rule of your safe conduct in 
this life, but to be preparatory to your happiness in the next. 

With regard to your school connexions, it is impossible for me 
to give you any instructions at present. All that I shall now say 
to you on this subject, is, quarrel with no one, avoid meddling 
with the disputes of others, unless with a view to promote an ac- 
commodation ; and, though I would wish you to support the dig* 
mty of a youth; be neither mean or arrogant* 

I have nothing more now to add, than to pray God to give you 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 65 

grace and abilities, and that your own endeavours may second 

the views of 

Your affectionate Father* 



HEREDITARY HEROISM, 

You will describe the siege of Leucate, in France.*-^ You will 
say, that Barre, governor of the city, in favour of Henri IV., 
was taken prisoner by the army of the leaguers. — Barre was 
threatened with death, if he did not give orders for the surrender 
of the place.— His noble reply>~— he refuses. 

The besiegers informed the wife of Barre of her husband's 
danger, and promised her his life, if she would give up the city* 
~~Eier heroic reply, — she refuses.— *She defends, successfully, the 
place.— Barre is put to death. 

The son of Barre succeeded him in his government.*— In 1637, 
the Spaniards, having invested the same city, promised to load 
him with honours* if he would surrender the place. — Young Barre 
answered, that he wished to emulate the heroic example of his 
father and mother. — You will relate his answer.—- -By his courage, 
Barre forced the Spaniards to raise the siege* 



LETTER No. %—Lord Chesterfield to Us Son. 

Cheltenham, June 16', 1?43* 
Dear Boy i I am pleased with the substance of your letter ; 
and as for the inaccuracies, with regard to style and grammar, 
you could have corrected them all yourself, if you had taken 
time. I return it to you here corrected, and desire that you will 
atteud to the difference, which is the way to avoid the same faults 
for the future. 

I would have your letter, next Thursday, be in English, and 
let it be written as accurately as you are able ; I mean with re* 
spect to language, grammar, aid stops; for, as to the matter of 
it, the less trouble you give yourself the better it will be, Let- 
ters should be easy and natural, and convey to the persons to 
whom we send them, just what we would say to those persons, 
if we were with them. You may as well write it on Wednes- 
day, at your leisure, and leave it to be given to my man, when 
he comes for it on Thursday* 



56 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Monsieur Coudert will go to you three times a week, — Tues- 
days and Saturdays, at three o'clock, and Thursdays, at 
five. He will read modern history with you, and, at the same 
time, instruct you in geography and chronology, without both of 
which* the knowledge of history is very imperfect, and almost 
useless. I beg, therefore, that you will give great attention to 
them ; they will be of the greatest use to you. 

As I know you do not love 10 stay long in the same place, I 
flatter myself, that you will take care not to remain long in that 
you have got, in the middle of the third form ; it is in your power 
to be soon out of it, if you please ; and I hope the love of variety 
will tempt you. 

Pray, be very attentive and obedient to Mr. Fitzgerald ; I am 
particularly obliged to him for undertaking the care of you ; and if 
you are diligent, and mind your business when with him, you 
will rise very fast in the school. Every remove (you know) is 
to be attended by a reward from me, besides the credit you will 
gain for yourself; which, to so great a soul as yours, I pre- 
sume, is a stronger inducement than any other reward can be ; 
but, however, you shall have one. I know very well you will 
not be easy till you have got above Master Onslow ; but, as he 
learns very well, I fear you will never be able to do it, at least 
not without taking more pain3 than I beiieve you will care to 
take ; but, should that ever happen, there shall be a very consid- 
erable reward for you, besides fame. 

Let me know, in your next, what books you read in your place 
at school, and what you do with Mr. Fitzgerald. Adieu. 



MILTON IN HIS OLD AGE. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the state of England, 
a short time previous to the restoration of Charles II., you will 
say, that Milton, who had been the literary champion of the re- 
publican cause, remained concealed after the restoration. — His 
friends, Davenant and Marwell, soon enabled him to appear in 
safety. — The rest of his life was spent in retirement. 

One day, when he was employed in the composition of that 
noble work, the 4 * Paradise Lost," one of his old friends entered 
his garden, and announced that the faction of independence was 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 57 

about making a final effort for overthrowing Charles II. — He ad- 
vised Milton to unite his efforts in the cause of the republicans. — 
Milton replied, that the affairs of the world no longer concerned 
hi m9 — his thoughts were devoted to poetry alone. 

At this moment, his two daughters appear. — Describe them, and 
compare them to two muses. — One reads the Bible in its original 
tongue, and the other sings a sacred canticle. — Milton, animated 
by the sublimity of the Scriptures, and the harmonious sounds of 
the music, composes his noble description of the terrestrial Para- 
dise, whilst his friend, insensible to the beauty of poetry, hastens 
to join the republicans. 



LETTER No. 2.— Lord Chesterfield to his Son. 

Bath, September 29, 1746. 

Dear Boy : I received, by the last mail, your letter of the 23d, 
from Heidelberg ; of the several places you go through, you do 
mighty right to see the curiosities in those several places, such as 
the Golden Bull, at Frankfort, the Tun, at Heidelberg, &c. ; 
other travellers see them, and talk of them; it is very proper to 
see them, too ; but remember, that seeing is the least material 
object of travelling : hearing and knowing are the essential points, 
therefore, pray, let your inquiries be chiefly directed to the know- 
ledge of the constitution and particular customs of the places 
where you either reside at or pass through, — who they belong to, 
by what right and tenure, and since when ; in whom the supreme 
authority is lodged, and by what magistrates, and in what man- 
ner the civil and criminal justice is administered. It is likewise 
necessary to get as much acquaintance as you can, in order to ob- 
serve the characters and manners of the people; for, though hu- 
man nature is, in truth, the same through the whole human spe- 
cies, yet it is so differently modified and varied, by education, 
habit, and different customs, that one should, upon a slight and 
superficial observation, almost think it different. 

As [ have never been in Switzerland myself, I must desire you 
to inform me, now arid then, of the constitution of that country ; 
as, for instance, do the thirteen cantons, jointly and collectively, 
form one government, where the supreme authority is lodged, or 
is each canton sovereign in itself, and under no tie or constitutional 



58 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

obligation of acting in common concert with the other cantons? 
Can any one canton make war or alliances with a foreign pow- 
er, without the consent of the other twelve, or at least a majority 
of them? Can one canton declare war to another? If every 
canton is sovereign and independent in itself, in whom is the su- 
preme power of that canton lodged ? Is it in one man, or in a 
certain number of men ? If in one man, what is he called ? If 
in a number, what are they called, Senate, Council, or what ? I 
do not suppose that you can yet know these things yourself; but 
a very little inquiry of those who do, will enable you to answer 
me these few questions in your next. 

You see, I am sure, the necessity of knowing these things 
thoroughly, and, consequently, the necessity of conversing much 
with the people of the country, who alone can inform you rightly; 
whereas most of the English who travel converse only with each 
other, and, consequently, know no more when they return in 
England than they did when they left it. This proceeds from a 
mauvaise konte, which makes them ashamed of going into com- 
pany ; and frequently, too, from the want of the necessary lan- 
guage (French) to enable them to bear their part in it. As for 
the mauvaise honte, I hope you are above it. Your figure is 
like other people's ; I suppose that you will take care that your 
dress shall be so too, and avoid any singularity. What then 
should you be ashamed of? and why not go into a mixed com- 
pany with as much ease and as little concern as you would go 
into your own room ? Vice and ignorance are the only things 
I know, which one ought to be ashamed of: keep but clear of 
them, and you may go anywhere without fear or concern. 

This letter has insensibly grown too long ; but, as I always 
flatter myself that my experience may be of some use to your 
youth and inexperience, I throw out, as it occurs to me, and shall 
continue to do so, every thing that I think may be of the least 
advantage to you in this important and decisive period of your 
life. God preserve you ! 

P. S.— ■ I am much better, and I shall leave this place soon. 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 59 

DEATH OF CICERO. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the triumvirate of Oc- 
tavius Antony and Lepidus, you will say, that Cicero, notwith- 
standing his advanced age and the numerous services which he 
had rendered to the Roman republic, was placed amongst the num- 
ber of the proscribed. 

Cicero, who was then at one of his villas, having been inform- 
ed of tins news, resolved to join Brutus and Cassius. — Contrary 
winds drove the ship on the shores of Italy. — The slaves of Cice- 
ro wished to force him to fly a second time. — Cicero declared that 
he was tired of living, and that he would submit to his fate. 

The satellites who had been sent in pursuit of him arrived. 
— The slaves of Cicero prepared to defend their master. — Cicero 
gave himself up to his murderers. 

The tribune Popilius, once saved by the eloquence of Cicero, 
ordered a centurion to kill the celebrated orator. — Popilius carried 
the head and hands of the victim to Antony. 

You will finish by lamenting the death of one so great, and 
the terrible effects of civil warfare. 



LETTER No. 2.— -From a Father to his Son at College. 

Dear Son : You appear to me, by your letter, to be rather en- 
vious of your cousin, because he has read more plays and more 
novels than you have. I will tell you sincerely, as 1 ought to do, 
that I am much grieved that you set such a value on all these 
trifles, which, at most, are to be read to relax the mind sometimes. 

You are engaged in studies of great importance, which should 
principally attract your attention, and whilst you are engaged in 
them, and we are willing to pay masters for instructing you, you 
ought to avoid every thing that may divert your mind, and with- 
draw it from them. Not only your own interest makes it requi- 
site, but you ought to have so much regard for me, as to conform, 
in some degree, to my intention, whilst you are of an age in 
which you should suffer yourself to be directed. I have no ob- 
jection to your reading, sometimes, productions that may enter- 
tain you, for you know that I have furnished you with a suffici- 
ent number of French and English books that are fit for that pur- 
pose ; but I should be exceedingly grieved, were books of this 



60 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

sort to raise in you a disgust for more useful reading* Believe 
me, though you should know how to discourse on plays and 
novels, you would be very little the better qualified to appear 
in the world ; and it will not be by this means that you will gain 
esteem. 

I shall omit entering into particulars on this subject till I see 
you ; but you will please me much, by declaring now your senti- 
ments about it, without the least restraint. You must be consci- 
ous that it is not my intention to torment you, and that I have no 
other motive than to contribute to the intellectual strength of your 
mind, and put you in a condition of not being a disgrace to me, 
when you shall make your appearance into the world. There- 
fore, do not look upon what I am saying to you as a reproof, but 
as the advice of a parent, who has a sincere affection for you, and 
only intends, by it, to give you proof of his friendship. 

Write to me as soon as you are able. 



THE TOWER OF LONDON. 

^Relate the useless attempt of James III. to re-ascend the 
throne of England. 

The English lords who embraced his cause were confined in 
the Tower of London. — Describe the Tower of London. — The 
prisoners were condemned to be beheaded. 

Lord Nithisdale was among this number.— On the eve of exe- 
cution, the 15th of March, 1716, as he was preparing for death, 
Lady Nithisdale entered the Tower, under the pretext of taking 
the last adieu of her husband. — When she was in the prison, 
she begged her husband to change clothes with her, and to es- 
cape. — Her husband refused.— The prayers of his wife. — Lord 
Nithisdale was moved.— He escaped from the Tower without be- 
ing recognized.— Describe the uneasiness of his wife. — He set 
sail for France. 

The next day, a Protestant minister, who presented himself 
to prepare Lord Nithisdale for his death, was very much aston- 
ished to find a woman in his place. — The keeper of the Tower 
consulted the court, as to what he should do. — He was ordered 
to liberate the lady. — She set off to join her husband. 



NARRATIONS AND' LETTERS; Ol 

LETTER No. 2.— Lord Chesterfield to his Son, 

London, October 30, 1747. 

Dear Boy: I am very well pleased with your Itinerarium, 
which you sent me from Ratisbon. It shows me that you ob- 
serve and inquire as you go, which is the true end of travelling* 
Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing oniy 
their distance from each Other, and attending only to their accom- 
modation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly re- 
turn so. Those who only mind the raree-shows of the places 
which they go through, such as steeples, ciocks,town-houses, &c.§ 
get so little by their travels, that they might as weli stay at home, 
But those who observe and inquire into the situations, the strength, 
the weakness, the trade, the manufactures, the government, and 
constitution of every place they go to — who frequent the best 
companies, and attend to their several manners and characters— 
those alone travel with advantage ; and as they set out wise, rec- 
tum wiser. 

I would advise you always to get the shortest description Or 
history of every place where you make any stay ; and such a 
book, however imperfect* will still suggest to you matter of in- 
quiry, upon which you may get better information from the 
people of the place. For example, while you are at Leipsig, get 
some short account (and to be sure there are many such) of the 
present state of that town, with regard to its magistrates, its po- 
lice, its privileges, &c, and then inform yourself more minutely 
upon all those heads, in conversation with the most intelligent 
people. Do the same thing afterwards with regard to the Electo- 
rate of Saxony : you will find a short history of it in PurTendorfFs 
Introduction, which will give you a general idea of it, and point 
out to you the proper objects of a more minute inquiry. In short, 
be curious, attentive, inquisitive, as to every thing ; listlessness 
and indolence are always blameable ; but, at your age, they are 
unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important for 
all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or 
four years ; and do not lose one of them* Do not, think I mean 
that you should study all day long; I am far from advising or 
desiring it ; but I desire that you would be doing something or 
other all day long ; and not neglect half hours and quarters of 
hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For 
6 



82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOE COMPOSITION* 

instance, there are many short intervals in the day, between 
studies and pleasures : instead of sitting idle and yawning in those 
intervals, take up any book, though ever so trifling a one, even 
down to a jest-book ; it is still better than doing nothing. 

There are a great many people, who think themselves employ- 
ed all day, and who, if they were to cast up their accounts at 
night, would find that they had done just nothing. They have 
read two or three hours mechanically, without attending to what 
they read, and consequently without either retaining it, or reason* 
ing upon it. From thence they saunter into company without 
taking any part in it, and without observing the characters of the 
persons, or the subjects of the conversation ; but are either think- 
ing of some trifle, foreign to the present purpose, or often not 
thinking at all ; which silly and idle suspension of thought they 
would dignify with the name of absence and distraction. 

Consider seriously, and follow carefully, I beseech you, my 
dear child, the advice which from time to time I have given and 
shall continue to give you ; it is at once the result of my long ex* 
perience, and the effect of my tenderness for you. I can have 
no interest in it but yours. You are not yet capable of wishing 
yourself half so well as I wish you ; follow, therefore, for a time 
at least, implicitly, advice which you cannot suspect, though pos* 
sibly you may not yet see the particular advantages of it ; but you 
will one day feel them. Adieu. 



THE CRANES OF TBYCtlS. 

Ibycus* a celebrated lyric poet* was going to the Olympic 
Games, to contend for the prize of singing aild poetry. — You will 
represent him as crossing a deep forest, and dreaming of the vie* 
tory he hopes to obtain. — Suddenly two brigands presented them- 
selves, struck him down and robbed him of his purse. — As he 
was about expiring, he saw in the sky a flock of cranes, and 
charged them, as witnesses of his death, to expose his murderers* 
" The death of Ibycus was made known to the assembled mul- 
titude at Olympia.— * Describe the indignation and unhappiness 
which this news creates. 

The games begin. — Give a short description of the combats in 
wrestling and racing.—^The games were not yet finished, when 



i 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 63 

the attention of the spectators was turned towards a flock of 
cranes. — A man said to his neighbor, " There are the cranes of 
Ibycus." — These words caused some suspicion. — The men were 
arrested. — They confessed their crime, and were immediately 
punished. 



LETTER No. 2."— -Lord Chesterfield to his Son. 

My Dear Friend : I have sent you so many preparatory let- 
ters for Paris, that this, which will meet you there, shall only be 
a summary of them all. 

You have hitherto had more liberty than anybody of your age 
ever had ; and I must do you the justice to own that you have 
made a better use of it than most people of your age would have 
done ; but then, though you had not a jailor, you had a friend 
with you. At Paris, you will not only be unconfined, but unas- 
sisted. Your own good sense must be your own guide ; I have 
great confidence in it, and I am convinced that I shall receive 
just such accounts of your conduct at Paris as I could wish. En- 
joy the innocent pleasures of youth ; you cannot do better, but 
refine and dignify them like a man of parts ; let them raise and 
not sink, let them adorn and not vilify, your character ; let them, 
in short, be the pleasures of a gentleman, and taken with your 
equals at least, but rather with your superiors, and those chiefly 
French. 

Inquire into the character of the several academicians, before 
you form a connexion with any of them ; and be most on your 
guard against those who make the most court to you. You can- 
not study too much in the academy ; but you may study useful- 
ly there, if you are an economist of your time, and bestow only 
upon good books those quarters and halves of hours which occur 
to everybody in the course of almost every day, and which, at 
the year's end, amount to a very considerable sum of time. Let 
Greek, without fail, share some part of every day : I do not mean 
the Greek poets, the catches of Anacreon, or the tender com- 
plaints of Theocritus, or even the porter-like language of Homer's 
heroes, whom all smatterers in Greek know a little of, quote 
often, and talk of always ; but I mean Plato, Aristotle, Demos- 
thenes, and Thucydides, whom none but adepts know. It is 



64 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. ' 

Greek that must distinguish you in the learned world ; Latin will 
not ; and Greek must be sought to be retained ; for it never oc- 
curs like Latin. When you read history, or other books of 
amusement, let every language you are master of have its turn ; 
so that you may not only retain but improve in every one. I 
also desire that you will converse in German and Italian, with 
all the Germans and Italians with whom you converse at all. 
This will be a very agreeable and flattering thing to them, and a 
very useful one to you. 

Pray apply yourself diligently to your exercises ; for, though 
the doing them well is not supremely meritorious, the doing them 
ill is illiberal, vulgar, and ridiculous. 

I send you the enclosed letter of recommendation to the Mar- 
quis Matignon, which I would have you deliver to him as soon 
as you can. You will, I am sure, feel the good effects of his 
warm friendship for me and Lord Bolingbroke, who has also writ- 
ten to him upon your subject. 

By that, and by the other letters which I have sent you, you 
will be at once so thoroughly introduced into the best French 
company, that you must take some pains if you will keep bad i 
but that is what I do not suspect you of. You have, I am sure, 
too much right ambition to prefer low and disgraceful company 
to that of your superiors, both in rank and age. Your character, 
and consequently your fortune, absolutely depends upon the com- 
pany you keep, and the turn you take at Paris. I do not, in the 
least, mean a grave turn ; on the contrary, a gay, a sprightly, 
but at the same time an elegant and liberal one. 

Keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels. They lower a 
character extremely, and are particularly dangerous in France, 
where a man is dishonoured by not resenting an affront, and ut- 
terly ruined by resenting it. The young Frenchmen are hasty, 
giddy, petulant, and extremely national. Forbear from any na- 
tional jokes or reflections, which are always improper, and com^ 
monly unjust. The colder northern nations generally look upon 
France as a whistling, singing, dancing, frivolous nation. This 
notion is far from being a good one, though many pelits-maitres, 
by their behaviour, seem to justify it; but those very petits* 
maitres, when mellowed by age and experience, very often turn 
out able men. The number of great generals and statesmen, as 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 65 

well as authors, that France has produced, is an undeniable 
proof that it is not that frivolous, unthinking, empty nation, that 
northern prejudices suppose it. Seem to like and approve of 
every thing at first, and I promise that you will like and ap* 
prove of many things afterwards. 

I expect that you will write to me constantly, once every 
week, which I desire may be every Thursday ; and that your 
letters may inform me of your personal transactions ; not of what 
you see, but of whom you see, and what you do. 

Be your own monitor, now that you will have no other. 

As to enunciation, I must repeat it to you again and again, that 
there is no one thing so necessary ; and all other talents, without 
that, are absolutely useless, except in our own closet. 

Adieu. 



PLAGUE OF MARSEILLES— 1720. 

You will say that a vessel coming from Seide, a city in Asia, 
brought the plague to Marseilles. — You will describe the progress 
of this scourge. — You will relate a few examples of the devotion 
of some physicians. 

Soon hunger was joined to the pestilence. — Belzunce, Bishop 
of Marseilles, bestowed upon the sick, and especially upon those 
who were poor, all the duties of humanity and religion. — Nobody 
could be found to bury the dead. — The Bishop entrusted this to 
the care of the galley-slaves. — Relate the short speech that he 
addressed to them : Go and deserve, &c. 

The hospitals could not contain all the sick. — Belzunce ordered 
them to be carried to his palace. 

At la9t the plague gradually ceased. — The black flag, that sin- 
ister emblem, disappeared from the ramparts of Marseilles. 



LETTER No. 2.— From a Preceptor to his Pupil. 

Dear Charles : I am unwilling to omit the first opportunity that 
offered, in commencing a correspondence with my young friend, 
for fear that, during this leisure time, the advice I have given 
and the rules I have set down, in respect to writing letters, may 
be either forgotten or neglected. I think it my duty, therefore, to 
6* 



66 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

remind you of these observations, and by insisting on regular 
answers, oblige you to practise, as well as to observe. You may 
remember that my first advice was to be careful of your spell- 
ing, and not to make use of pompous language, in addressing 
your friends ; a simplicity of style always recommends itself, aud 
displays far more learning than rhapsodical bombast: be also as 
brief as possible, for a prolix writer exhausts the patience of his 
reader. Avoid repetitions, for they offend the ear ; except they are 
artfully introduced, to make some artful point. I disapprove of 
parentheses {except they are absolutely necessary), for they gene- 
rally create confusion : some masters are very fond of recom- 
mending long s's, and appropriating the round one to the final 
letter of a word. Never send a letter to any with an interlinea- 
tion : it is an affront, for it betokens both laziness and careless- 
ness ; there is no excuse for an interlineation, except it is a piece 
which you wish to prove an original, and of which there should 
be no duplicate. Avoid capital letters, which should only be ap- 
propriated to proper names or particular nouns. When you in- 
troduce a word which requires more than common notice, or on 

which the reader should lay a great accent, put a under it 

with your pen ; such words, when printed, are put in italics ; but 
do not be too fond of this, for I have known many puzzled by 
these dashes, which have frequently intimated wit where there 
was none. Never let me see you write you was, or I shall deny 
you were, ever a pupil of mine. Be attentive to the time, and do 
not jumble the present, past, and future, as many writers do. Use 
the conditional mood, provided the sentence be conditional ; this, 
I confess, is not a general observation, but if a man pretend to 
write, he ought to be correct. Do not crowd us with monosylla- 
bles, for they are very insignificant creatures, nor use many long 
words, for fear you may exceed comprehension. I hate particles 
when they are avoidable; be, therefore, sparing in your fors, your 
buts, and your ands. Quotations, when not made too common, 
display both a variety, and some knowledge of authors ; but be-, 
ware of misapplying them, for you not only insult the author you 
borrow from, but expose yourself to ridicule. Do not arrogate 
the power of making words, for we have sufficient in our langu- 
age to express our meaning, and there are very few who possess 
competent abilities for the task. Avoid cant and obsolete phrases; 
nor insert a word that you do not perfectly comprehend. These 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 67 

hints, I hope, will be sufficient ; let me, therefore, see they are 
observed, while I remain, with compliments to your father, 
Your sincere friend. 



COURAGE OF PEPIN.— 753, 

Pepin, in order to celebrate his victories over the Saracens, 
orders a combat of ferocious beasts. — You will describe an amphi- 
theatre, filled with 20,000 spectators. — Their appearance. 

The trumpet announces that the lists are open. — A tiger rushes 
forth from its den. — You will describe this animal. — A lion soon 
appears. — You will describe the lion. — The combat com mence*s. 
— You will describe this combat. — A child falls into the arena. — 
You will describe the despair of its mother, and the terror of the 
spectators. 

Pepin, sword in hand, throws himself into the arena. — The 
animals cease their combat. — Their hesitation. — Pepin seizes the 
child, and carries it to its mother. — Applauses of the crowd. — The 
animals, excited by the shouts of the people, re-commence the 
combat. 

After an hour of almost equal fortune, the tiger is conquered. 
— You will describe the death of this monster. 

You will close with some moral reflections upon the subject of 
the combats of wild beasts. 



LETTER No. 2.— From a Father to his Son. 

Your ardent love of glory, my dear son, has induced you to 
adopt the profession of arms. I have not been able to dissuade 
you from this difficult and dangerous career. 

Bravery alone is not sufficient. Valour should be regulated 
by great prudence; and the first duty of a soldier is to acquire 
profound information in every branch of the military art. Sub- 
missive to his superiors, he executes their orders with punctuality, 
and gains their esteem by obedience. He wins the hearts of his 
comrades by politeness and respectful treatment. Does he seek 
for a friend among them ? His love for true glory leads him to 
select one who unites good conduct with courage : he shuns the 
bravado, who boasts when danger is at a distance, and flees from 



68 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

its presence in the field. The good soldier is quiet in garrison; 
he spares the defenceless in war; he adds humanity to valour; he 
is terrible only to an enemy ; in opposing him, he dreads no 
danger, and regards no obstacle as insurmountable. Such is the 
character of a soldier who commands universal respect, and, by 
the aid of his virtues and exploits, rises rapidly in the list of 
promotion. In your profession, a man is peculiarly indebted for 
advancement to his own merit. Your eminence in virtue and 
military skill, is the earnest wish of a father, who has nothing in 
view but the happiness of his children. 



DEATH OF ANDRE CHENIER.— 1794, 

After some philosophical reflections upon the French Revolu- 
tion in 1789, you will say, that the poet Andre Chenier was un- 
justly suspected of treason, and arrested. — You will represent him, 
even in his prison, composing poetry, and consoling the compan- 
ions of his misfortune. 

Among the prisoners, there was a young lady of high birth, 
who, foreseeing the fatal destiny which awaited her, sadly ex- 
pressed her grief. — The poet, moved by this touching spectacle, 
immediately composed a plaintive elegy upon her regrets. — You 
will mention some of the ideas of that elegy. 

A few days after, Andre Chenier and his friend, the poet 
Roucher, were brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal. — They 
were condemned to death. 

You will represent their walking together to the scaffold. 
— Roucher seemed to regret his wife and children. — Chenier re- 
gretted dying before he had acquired renown. 

The next day, the young girl was led to the scaffold. 



LETTER No. 2.— From a Young Man to his Friend. 

Dear Friend : You flatter me very highly, in applying to me 
for advice on the study of the French language, and I offer you, 
with pleasure, the result of the observations I have made. 

The first and most important thing, is, to be particularly care- 
ful in the choice of a master; it will save you much pains, time, 
and money. "When you have once commenced, pursue the 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. b9 

study without intermission ; let no day pass without practice, 
such as reading, copying, and translating. The study of rules is 
not absolutely necessary in the beginning, but occupy yourself as 
much as possible with practice. 

Experience has proved to me, that one good practical lesson is 
worth a whole week of theoretical study. The principal diffi- 
culty lies in the great difference that exists between the written and 
ihe spoken language, and, to acquire the knowledge of the latter, 
it is absolutely necessary to listen very attentively, to receive the 
sounds, before you attempt to emit them ; be assured, that, when 
once your ear is formed, half the difficulty is over. There are 
several minor circumstances to be observed, which we will dis- 
cuss when I have the pleasure of seeing you. 
Heartily yours. 



BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST. 

You will describe the character of Belshazzar. — You will des- 
cribe a nocturnal feast given by this king to his principal officers. — 
You will describe the royal throne and the gigantic statue of Baal. 
—The guests abandon themselves to the intoxication of pleasure. 

Belshazzar orders the sacred vessels taken at Jerusalem to be 
brought to him. — He offers them to his gods. — Apparition of a 
mysterious and luminous cloud. — Words written on the walls of 
the palace hall. — You will describe the terror of the king and of 
his courtiers. — The king vainly consults the magicians. — The 
queen mentions Daniel. — Belshazzar sends a messenger to him. 
— Imposing entrance of Daniel. — The promises which the king 
makes to him. — Answer and explanation of the prophet. 

That very night the prophecy is realized, by the death of Bel- 
shazzar and the capture of Babylon, which fell into the hands of 
Cyrus. — Finish with some reflections upon that event. 



LETTER No. 2.— On Assurance of Friendship. 

You wrong my friendship, by telling me you do not cultivate 
it as you ought. It has too good a root", to have any need of be- 
ing maintained with so much care. Do you think it is like those 
delicate plants which wither away, if one neglects watering them 
but one day ? Strong things subsist by themselves, and their 



70 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

own firmness secures them. 1 would not give you any trouble 
to take care of me. Leave me upon my word, you shall never 
lose my friendship. It is sufficient that I know you love me ; I 
have such solid proofs of this truth, that it is not allowable for me 
to doubt it. The rest is not essential, and words are no longer 
necessary. Letters, sometimes, make an intercourse of smoke, 
as well as conversation; and I own to you, that I commonly 
make but little haste to break open most letters of compliments 
that I receive. This is knowing the value of trifles, and esteem- 
ing them at what they are worth. It is doing justice to those 
useless protestations, not to read them, when one receives them, 
because the authors do not think, when they write them. 

I take so little account of these affections in picture, that, if it 
were possible to add any thing to the good opinion I have of your 
generosity, 1 should have valued it more, because you use me 
with less ceremony. It is shameful to have grown old in a per- 
fect union, and yet to be in the first elements of friendship. Let 
us leave them to those who take pleasure in re-paying the same 
things, or who have to do with friends difficult to persuade. 
We have got over that a long time ago, and, believe me, we shall 
find our account on it. Let us, once for all, admit two principles : 
the first, that our business requires more than twenty-four hours 
a day ; the other, that you are, and will be my friend, in your 
heart, without shewing it by troublesome compliments, as I am, 
and will be, all my life. 

Yours, in the same manner. 



THE RETURN OF MARY STUART TO SCOTLAND. 

In 1561, Mary Stuart, widow of Francis the 2d, left France, 
in order to take possession of the Scottish throne. — You will de- 
scribe the distress which appears to overcome her during the pas- 
sage. — She bursts into tears when, with the last rays of the sun, 
she loses sight of the coast of France. — She addresses touching 
adieux to her beloved and adopted country. — You will mention 
some of her thoughts. 

The night being calm and beautiful, she slept on deck. — At 
first she rested tranquilly, but soon she appeared agitated by some 
sad dream. — She pronounces some unconnected words. — At last 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 71 ' 

she springs from her couch and places her hands upon her fore- 
head, and demands to what place they are conducting her. — In 
landing, she experiences an involuntary trembling. 

You will finish by mentioning the affinity between the sinister 
presentiments of this unhappy queen and the fate which she at 
last experienced. 



LETTER No. 2. — From an Englishman residing in France. 

Dear Friend : I recollect that when I was in the habit of visit- 
ing France and making only short stays, all my acquaintances 
Were desirous at my return to hear ray opinion of France and of 
the Frenchmen. I thought then, and am convinced now, that it 
is not from persons who occasionally visit a country, and stay 
some weeks, or even months, that one should expect a correct or 
an impartial account of a country or of a people. 

Many persons, and particularly a certain class of my own 
Countrymen, leave their shores with a determination to be dis- 
pleased with every thing that differs from Old England* They 
arrive in France with their heads full of ridiculous prejudices* 
they find nothing good, they behave with rudeness, which the 
French, in general, are very far from returning ; and after stay* 
ing a few weeks, spending a great deal of money, making them- 
selves very ridiculous, and (if the French were to judge by them 
only) disgracing their country, they return with their heads as 
empty, and their pockets much more so, than when they left 
England. 

Is it of such persons we should ask an opinion of the country 
and people they have visited ? Should we say " the French are 
cheats, I know it, because my friend, Mr. Bull, has been to Paris } 
and they cheated him 1 There is no commerce, for Mr. Bull as- 
sures me he did not see one ship on the river, and that all their 
trade consists in charcoal, wood, and building-stone* because he 
saw nothing else on the wharves ?" 

This is certainly very ridiculous ; there is, however, but too 
much truth in it. I could offer other details equally ridiculous* 
but I will abstain, hoping that the reasonable part of my country- 
men (whose presence, wherever they go, adds dignity to the name 
of Englishman) will not think me too severe. A residence of 



¥ 2 NEW ZSTETXC METHOD FOB. COMPOSITION 

some years in different parts of France, frequent journeys from 
the Channel to the Mediterranean, and from Strasbourg to Bor- 
deaux, have enabled me to form an opinion; and lam happy \o 
say that my opinion is a very favourable one. I have experi- 
enced the greatest civility from the French, and have formed 
friendships which, I am sure, life only will terminate. 

I have, on several occasions, had proofs of the honesty of the 
lower class. 

The higher classes are excessively polite, communicative, and 
easy of access; their civility to foreigners makes them appear 
very amiable. 

I have much more to say, dear friend, but my papef is nearly 
filled, and I must wait another opportunity. 

Yours, truly. 



DEATH OF LEWIS XL— 1483. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the reign of Lewis' 
XL, you will describe the terror and remorse of this hypocritical 
and superstitions king, at the approach of death. 

He sends for a poor hermit. — As soon as the king sees the holy 
man, he entreats that he will restore him to health* — The hermit 
tells him that God alone possesses such a power. — The king again 
supplicates him with increasing earnestness, and promises to build 
a chapel to the Virgin Mary. — The hermit conjures the king to 
repent sincerely of his faults* 

The Dauphin, afterwards Charles VIII., demands to see his 
father. — Lewis XL, who was suspicious of his son, caused him 
to be searched by the captain of his guards. 

Charles wishes to throw himself into the arms of his father.- 
The king repulses him, saying, "Do not be so hasty ; I am not 
as sick as you imagine" &c, &c. 

His hopes were vain ; he died almost instantly. 



LETTER No. 2.— The Earl of Stafford to his Son, just 
before his Lordship's execution. 

My Dearest Will : These are the last lines that you are to re- 
ceive from a father that tenderly loves you. I wish there were 



KARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 73 

greater leisure to impart my mind unto you ; but our merciful 
God will supply all things by his grace, and will guide and pro- 
tect you in all your ways; to whose infinite goodness I bequeath, 
you ; and therefore be not discouraged, but serve him, and trust 
in him, and he will preserve and prosper you in all things. Be 
s^ire you give all respect to my wife, who hath ever had a great 
love unto you, and therefore it will be well becoming you. Never 
be wanting in your love and care to your sisters, but let them 
ever be most dear to you ; for this will give others cause to es- 
teem and respect you for it. and is a duty that you owe them, in 
the memory of your excellent mother and myself; therefore, 
your care and affection to them must be the very same that you 
are to have of yourself; and the like regard must you have to 
your youngest sister, for indeed you owe it to her also, both for 
her father and mother's sake. Sweet Will, be careful to take 
the advice of those friends, who are, by me, desired to. advise you 
for your education. Serve God diligently, morning and evening, 
and daily commend yourself to him, and have him before your 
©yes in all your ways. With patience hea? the instructions of 
those friends I leave with you, and diligently follow their counsel. 
For, till you come by time to have experience in the world, it 
will be far more safe to trust to their judgment than your own. 
Lose not the time of your youth, but gather those seeds of virtue 
and knowledge which may be of use to yourself, and comfort to 
your friends, for the rest of your life^ And that this may be the 
better effected, attend thereunto with patience, and be sure to cor- 
rect and restrain yourself from anger. 

Suffer not sorrow to cast you down; but with cheerfulness and 
good courage go on the race you have to run in all sobriety and 
truth. Be sure, with a hallowed care, to have respect to all the 
commandments of God, allowing not yourself to neglect them in 
the least thing, lest, by degrees, you come to forget them in the 
greatest ; for the heart of man is deceitful above ail things. And 
in all your duties and devotions towards God, rather perform thern 
joyfully than pensively; for God loves a cheerful giver. For 
your religion, let it be directed according to that which shall be 
taught by those who are in God's church, the proper teachers 
thereof, rather than that you either fancy one to yourself, or be 
kd by men that are singular in their own opinion, and delight to 
7 



T4 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOlt COMPOSITION 

go in the ways of their own finding out ; for you will certainly 
find soberness and troth in the one, and much unsteadiness and 
vanity in the other* 

The king, I trust, will deal graciously with you ; restore you 
those honours, and that fortune, which a distempered time hath de- 
prived you of, together with the life of your father; which I 
rather advise might be a new gift and creation from himself than 
by other means, to the end you may pay the thanks to him, with- 
out having obligations to any other. Be sure to avoid, as much 
as you can, to inquire after those who have been sharp in their 
judgments towards me, and I charge you never to suffer a thought 
of revenge to enter into your heart; but be careful to be informed 
who were my friends in this prosecution, and to them apply your- 
self to make them your friends also, and on such you may rely, 
and bestow much of your conversation amongst them. And God 
Almighty, of his infinite goodness, bless you and your children's 
children ; and his same goodness bless your sisters in like man- 
ner ; perfect you in every good work, and give you a right under- 
standing in all things. Amen. 

Your most loving father. 



THESEUS EMBARKS FOR CRETE.— 1260 B. C. 

Minos, in order to avenge the death of Androgens, obliged the 
Athenians, whom he had conquered, to send, every seventh year? 
to Crete, seven young men, and as many young girls, chosen by 
lot, to serve as food for the Minotaurus. 

The tribute had been thrice paid, and the time for sending the 
fourth tribute arrived,— You will describe the grief of the Athe- 
nians. — The fatal urn, which enclosed the names of the young 
men and girls, is brought forward. — The king pronounces, one 
by one, the names of the victims. — You will describe the grie£ 
the fear, and hope of the spectators. 

There remained but one victim to be chosen. — Theseus, the 
son of the king of Athens, presents himself. — He wishes to go to 
Crete, in order to kill the Minotaurus. — The people break forth 
into shouts of joy. 

The king of Athens refuses to allow his son to depart. — At 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 75 

last, love for his people overcomes paternal affection, and the. 
king consents to the departure of his son. 

The people conduct the young prince in triumph to the shore. 
—Theseus embarks for Crete. — Describe the scene. 



LETTER No. 2.— Mr. Pope to Mr. Wycherley, (a Poet.) 

When I write to you, I foresee a long letter, and ought to beg 
your patience beforehand ; for, if it prove the longest, it will be, 
of course, the worst I have troubled you with. Yet, to express 
my gratitude at large for your obliging letter, is not more my duty 
than my interest, as some people will abundantly thank you for 
one piece of kindness, to put you in mind of bestowing another. 
The more favourable you are to me, the more distinctly I see my 
faults. Spots and blemishes, you know, are never so plainly 
discovered as in the brightest sunshine. Thus I am mortified 
by those commendations which were designed to encourage me, 
for praise to a young wit is like rain to a tender flower; if it be 
moderately bestowed, it cheers and revives, but if too lavishly, 
overcharges and depresses him. Most men in years, as they are 
general discouragers of youth, are like old trees, that, being past 
bearing themselves, will suffer no young plants to flourish be- 
neath them ; but, as if it were not enough to have outdone all 
your coevals in wit, you will excel them in good nature too. As 
for my green essays, if you find any pleasure in them, it must 
be such as a man naturally takes in observing the first shoots and 
buddings of a tree which he has raised himself; and it is impos- 
sible they should be esteemed any otherwise than as we value 
fruits for being .early, which, nevertheless, are the most insipid, 
and the worst of the year. In a word, I hate compliment, which 
'is, at best, but the smoke of friendship. I neither write nor con- 
verse with you to gain your praise, but your affection. Be so 
much my friend as to appear my enemy, and to tell me my 
faults, if not as a young man, at least as an inexperienced writer. 

I am, &c. 



THE FIGHT OF GONZON WITH A CROCODILE. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the order of Malta, 
you will describe the ravages of a crocodile in the Isle of Rhodes. 



76 NEW ZETETXC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION 

— You will say, that, several knights had attempted to kill him, 
but all had fallen victims* 

Helion of V r illeneuve, grand master of Malta, had forbidden 
the knights to encounter the terrible beast.— Gonzon resolved to 
attack the monster. 

Gonzon retired to his castle, in France. — There he made an 
image, in pasteboard, of the monster, and taught his dogs to 
seize the animal under his belly, the only place where it was vul- 
nerable. — You will describe the mock combat. 

When he thought himself skilful enough, he returned tr> 
Rhodes. 

The day after his arrival, he went, with his two faithful ser- 
vants, to an abandoned chapel. — Afterwards, he advanced, with 
his dogs, to attack the monster. — You will describe the combat. 
—The assistance of the dogs* — Gonzon is thrown from his horse. 
— He attacks the monster on foot, and mortally wounds him, but 
he is himself slightly wounded. 

His servants run to him, and earry him to the palace of the 
grand master. 



THE PUNISHMENT AND REWARD OF GONZON. 

You will describe the triumphal reception of the victorious 
knight. — Severity of the grand master. — He reproaches the 
knight for his disobedience. — His speech to Gonzon. — The broth- 
er knights of Gonzon murmur.- — The grand master orders them 
to conduct the conqueror to prison. — They reproach their chief for 
his severity. — The grand master orders them to load Gonzon with 
chains. — The knights obey, although against their will. 

Gonzon is condemned to die. — The sentence is commuted for 
degradation. — The knight prefers to die.— They conduct him to 
the place of execution. 

The grand master, seeing the submission of Gonzon, orders 
his chains to be taken oflf.— His speech to Gonzon : Come to my 
arms, my son^ &c, &c. 

The knight, after having received the punishment of his diso- 
bedience, receives the reward of his courage. 



NATATIONS AND LETTERS. 17 

LETTER No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to Jonathan Swift. 

London, Feb. 3, 1722. 

You made me happy in answering my last letter in so kind a 
manner, which, to common appearance, I did not deserve; but 1 
believe you guessed my thoughts, and knew that I had not forgot 
you, and that I always loved you. When I found that my book 
was not sent to you by Tooke, Jervas undertook it, and gave it 
to Mr. Maxwell, who married a niece of Mr. Meredith's. I am 
surprised you have heard nothing of it : but Jervas has promised 
me to write about it, so that I hope you will have it delivered to 
you soon. Mr. Congreve I see often : he always mentions you 
with the strongest expressions of esteem and friendship. He la- 
bors still under the same afflictions, as to his sight and gout; but, 
in his intervals of health, he has not lost any thing of his cheer- 
ful temper. I passed all the last season with him at the Bath, 
and I have great reason to value myself upon his friendship; for 
I am sure he sincerely wishes me well. We pleased ourselves 
with the thoughts of seeing you there ; but Duke Disney, who 
knows more intelligence than anybody besides, chanced to give 
us a wrong information. If you had been there, the duke pro- 
mised, upon my giving him notice, to make you a visit. He of- 
ten talks of you, and wishes to see you. 

I was two or three days ago at Dr. Arbuthnot 5 s, who told me 
he had written to you three letters, but had received no answer. 
He charged me to send you his advice, which is, to come to 
England and see your friends. This he affirms (abstracted from 
the desire he has to see you) to be very good for your health. 
He thinks, that your going to Spa, and drinking the waters there, 
would be of great service to you, if you have resolution enough 
to take the journey. But he would have you try England first. 
I like the prescription very much, but I own, I have a self-inter- 
est in it; for your taking this journey would certainly do me a 
great deal of good. Pope has just now embarked himself in 
another great undertaking as an author ; for, of late, he has talk- 
ed only as a gardener. He has engaged to translate the Odyssey 
in three years, 1 believe rather out of a prospect of gain than in- 
clination : for I am persuaded he bore his part in the loss of the 
South Sea. He lives mostly at Twickenham, and amuses him- 
self in his house and garden. I supped about afortnigb. ago with 
7* 



78 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

Lord Bathurst and Lewis, at Dr. Arbuthnot's. Whenever 
your old acquaintance meet, they never fail of expressing their 
want of you. I wish yon would come, and be convinced thai 
all I tell you is true. 

As for the reigning amusement of the town, it is entirely mu- 
sic ; real fiddles, base-viols, and hautboys ; not poetical harps, 
lyres, and reeds. There's nobody allowed to say, I sing, but a 
French or an Italian woman. Everybody is grown now as 
great a judge of music as they were, in your lime, of poetry ; and 
folks, that could not distinguish one tune from another, now daily 
dispute about the different styles of Handel, Bononcini, and At- 
filio. People have now forgot Homer, and Virgil, and Caesar ; or? 
at least, they have lost their ranks. For, in London and West- 
minster, in all polite conversations, Senesino is daily voted to be 
the greatest man that ever lived. 

I am obliged to you for your advice, as I have been formerly 
for your assistance, in introducing me into business. I shall 
this year be a commissioner of the state lottery, which will 
be worth to me a hundred and fifty pounds. And lam not with- 
out hopes, that I have friends that, will think of some better and 
more certain provision for me. You see I talk to you of myself, 
as a thing of consequence to you. I judge by myself; for to 
hear of your health and happiness, will always be one of my 
greatest satisfactions. Every one that I have named in the let- 
ter, give their services to you. I beg you to give mine and 
Mr. Pope's to Mr. Ford. I am, dear sir, 

Your most faithful and most humble servant, 

J. GAY. 

P. S.— My paper was so thin, that I was forced to make use 
of a cover. I do not require the like civility in return. 



DEATH OF LUC AN. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the beginning of Ne- 
ro 5 s reign, you will say, that the author of the 4I Pharsalia' 5 was 
once one of the favourites of this Emperor.— He contended with 
him for the prize in poetry.— -Lucan had the dangerous honour 
ro gain the prize. 

Some years after* Nero made evident his sanguinary eharae- 
ter.™-Piso conspired against hirtw— Nero accused Lucao of har- 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS, 19 

ing been concerned in the conspiracy. — He condemned him to 
death. — Lucan caused his own vein to be opened, and died in 
reciting those verses of his " Pharsalia," which expressed the 
sort of death by which he was expiring. — You will mention some 
of his thoughts* 

Nero having learned the death of his conqueror in poetry, ex- 
claimed, " So let every imprudent poet perish who will dare to 
have more genius than a Roman Emperor," &c, fee. 

You will finish by deploring the fate of Lucan, who was but 
twenty-seven years old when his life was cut short* 



LETTER No. 2.— Dr. Johnson to the Right Honourable the 
Earl of Chesterfield. 

My Lord : I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of 
the World, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recom- 
mended to (he public, were written by your lordship. To be 
so distinguished, is an honour which, being very little accustomed 
to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in 
what terms to acknowledge. 

When, upon some slight encouragement, 1 first visited your 
lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the 
enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish that 
I might boast myself Le vainqueur du vainqueur de la ferre | 
that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world con* 
tending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that 
neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When 
I had once addressed }^our lordship in public, I had exhausted 
all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can 
possess* 1 had done all I could ; and no man is well pleased to 
have bi3 all neglected, be it ever so little. 

Seven years, my lord, have now past, since I waited in your 
outward room, or was repulsed from your door; during which 
lime I have been pushing on my work, through difficulties of 
which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to 
the verge of publication, without an act of assistance, one word 
of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did 
not expect, for T never had a patron before. 

The Shepherd, in Virgil, grew, at last, acquainted with love, 
and found him a native of the rocks* 



80 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a 
man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached 
the ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you 
have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had 
been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and can- 
not enjoy it ; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am 
known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperi- 
ty, not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, 
or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing 
that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for my* 
self. 

Having carried on my work thus far, with so little obligation 
to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I 
should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been 
long awaked from that dream of hope which I once boasted my- 
self with so much exultation, my lord, your lordship's most 
humble, most obedient servant, &c. 



THE FIRST CRUSADE— 1099. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the Crusades, you 
will say, that an immense army, formed from every natiou of 
Europe, marched towards Palestine.— -You will describe the ap- 
pearance which that immense multitude presented. — You will 
describe the ravages which marked their progress. — At last, after 
surmounting many obstacles, (you will mention some of them,) 
ihe crusaders arrived in Palestine. 

You will say, that the Saracens had taken every precaution to 
put Jerusalem in a state of defence. 

The crusaders arrive near Jerusalem. — You will describe their 
enthusiasm at the sight of the holy city. — Without waiting to 
take any repose, they attack the ramparts.—- After a terrible con- 
flict, the Christians are obliged to give way. 

Provisions begin to fail them. — Dismay spreads throughout the 
Christian army. 



CAPTURE OF JERUSALEM.— -1099. 

Godfrey, the commander of the Christian army, reproachers 
the, crusaders for their want of perseverance. — They again at- 
tack the city.— They are repulsed. 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 81 

The Christians, animated by the supposed apparition of an 
angel on the Mount of Olives, for the third time attack the walls. 
— You will describe their almost miraculous courage. — Godfrey, 
by the aid of a wooden tower, rushes first into the city. — Jerusa- 
lem falls into the hands of the crusaders. — They wish to put all 
to the sword. — The example and humanity of Godfrey calm 
their fury. 

The Christians visit the holy sepulchre. — You will describe 
the religious sentiments with which that holy place inspired 
them. — Short, but fervent, prayer of Godfrey. 

The weather, which was cloudy, suddenly clears up. — The 
sun shines forth in all its brightness. 



LETTER No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to Jonathan Swift. 

London, Dec. 22, 1722. 

Dear Sir: After every postclay, for these eight or nine months, 
I have been troubled with an uneasiness of spirit, and at last, I 
have resolved to get rid of it, and write to you. I do not deserve 
you should think so well of me as I really deserve ; for I have 
not professed to you, that I love you as much as ever I did : but 
you are the only person of my acquaintance almost that does not 
know it. Whomever I see that conies from Ireland, the first 
question I ask is after your health; of which I had the pleasure 
to hear very lately from Mr. Berkeley. I think of you very 
often : nobody wishes you better, or longs more to see you. 
Duke Disney, who knows more news than any man alive, told 
me I should certainly meet you at the Bath this season : but I 
had one comfort in being disappointed, that you did not want it 
for your health. I was there for near eleven weeks for a sick- 
ness that I have been often troubled with of late ; but have not 
found all the benefit I expected. 

I lodge, at present, in Burlington-house, and have received 
many civilities from many great men, but very few real benefits. 
They wonder at each other for not providing for me ; and I won- 
der at them ail. Experience has given me some knowledge of 
them ; so that 1 can say, that it is not in their power to disap- 
point me. You find I talk to you of myself; I wish you would 
reply in the same manner. I hope, though you have not heard 



82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

of me so long, I have not lost my credit with you ; but that you 
will think of me in the same manner, as when you espoused my 
cause so warmly, which my gratitude never can forget. 
I am, dear sir, 
Your most obliged and sincere humble servant, 

J. GAY. 
P. S. — Mr. Pope, upon reading over this letter, desired me to 
tell you, that he has been just in the same sentiments with me, in 
regard to you ; and shall never forget his obligations to you. 



THE FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF CHARLES V. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the reign of Ch irks 
V., King of Spain, you will say, that this prince, after having 
abdicated his throne, retired to a convent, where he remained 
eighteen months. — You will contrast the tranquil life of a monk 
with that of a warlike king. 

Charles V., tired of this monastic life, conceived the singular 
idea of assisting alive at the ceremonies of his funeral. — You 
w r ill describe the preparations for the ceremony. — Charles, en- 
closed in a coffin, and covered by a thin black cloth, is placed in 
the middle of the church. — The office for the dead commences. 
— You will describe the impressions which the gloomy ceremony 
produced upon the mind of this prince. 

When the service was finished, all the assistants silently re- 
tired. — Charles remained alone in the church. — He raises the 
pall and regains his cell. — During the ceremony, he had been 
attacked with a burning fever, and, at the end of two days, he 
died. 

You will finish by some moral reflections. 



LETTER No. 2.— Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Rochester, 
before his exile. 

Once more I write to you, as I promised ; and this once, I fear, 
will be the last! The curtain will soon be drawn between my 
friend and me, and nothing left but to wish you a long good-night. 
May you enjoy a state of repose in this life, not unlike that sleep 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS, 83 

of the soul which some have believed is to succeed it ; where we 
lie, utterly forgetful of that world from which we are gone, and 
ripening for that to which we are to go. If you retain any me- 
mory of the past, let it only image to you what has pleased you 
best ; sometimes present a dream of an absent friend, or bring 
you back an agreeable conversation. But, upon the whole, I 
hope you will think less of the time past than of the future: as 
the former has been less kind to you than the latter infallibly will 
be. Do not envy the world, your studies Avill tend to the 
benefit of men against whom you can have no complaint, I mean 
of all posterity ; and perhaps, at your time of life, nothing else is 
worth your care. What is every year of a wise man's life, but a 
censure or critic on the past? They whose date is the shortest, 
live long enough to laugh at one half of it: the boy despises the 
infant, the man the boy, the philosopher both ; and the Christian 
all. You may now begin to think your manhood was too much 
a puerility ; and you will never suffer your age to be but a second 
infancy. The toys and baubles of your childhood are hardly now 
more below you, than those toys of our riper and our declining 
years, the drums and rattles of ambition, and the dirt and bubbles 
of avarice. At this time, when you are cut off from a little soci- 
ety, and made a citizen of the world at large, you should bend 
your talents, not to serve a party, or a few, but all mankind* 
Your genius should mount above that mist in which its participa- 
tion and neighbourhood with earth long involved it; to shine 
abroad and to heaven, ought to be the business and the glory of 
your present situation. Remember, it was at such a time that 
the greatest lights of antiquity dazzled and blazed the most, in 
their retreat, in their exile, or in their death ; but why do I talk 
of dazzling or blazing? It was then that they did good, that they 
gave light, and that they became guides to mankind. 

Those aims alone are worthy of spirits truly great, and such, I 
therefore hope, will be yours. Resentment, indeed, may remain, 
perhaps cannot be quite extinguished, in the noblest minds ; but 
revenge never will harbour there : higher principles than those of 
the first, and better principles than those of the latter, wiil infalli- 
bly influence men whose thoughts and whose hearts are enlarged, 
and cause them to prefer the whole to any part of mankind, espe- 
cially to so small a part as one's single self. 



84 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

Believe me, ray lord, I look upon you as a spirit entered into 
another life, as one just upon the edge of immortality ; where the 
passions and affections must be much more exalted, and where 
you ought to despise all little views, and all mean retrospects* 
Nothing is worth your looking back ; and therefore look forward, 
and make (as you can) the world look after you ; but take care 
that it be not with pity, but with esteem and admiration. 

I am, with the greatest sincerity, and passion for your fame as 
well as your happiness, yours, &c. &c. 



CLEMENCY OF THEODOSIUS. 

You will say, that the Emperor Theodosius had sent an army 
agninst Antioch, in order to punish that city for a sedition, in 
which his own statues and those of his deceased wife had been 
thrown down. 

You will describe the consternation of the inhabitants. — Fla- 
vian, Bishop of Antioch, set out immediately to implore the cle- 
mency of that prince. 

You will describe the expressive countenance which the Bishop 
put on, when he was introduced to the Emperor. — Theodosius 
is moved. — The king assumes a soft tone of voice, and reproach- 
es the inhabitants of Antioch for their ingratitude. — The Bishop 
exclaims, with deep sighs, " It is true, sir, your goodness," &c. 

The Bishop implores the clemency of the Emperor. — He re- 
calls to his memory the example of Constantine. — He makes the 
honour of religion concerned in this affair. 

Theodosius is not able to resist the force of this speech. — He 
pardons the inhabitants of Antioch for the sake of Christ. 



LETTER No. 2.— Swift to Lord Treasurer Oxford, on the 
death of his daughter, the Marchioness of Caermarihen. 

My Lord : Your lordship is the person in the world to whom 
every body ought to be silent upon such an occasion as this, 
which is only to be supported by the greatest wisdom and 
strength of mind ; wherein, God knows, the wisest and best of 
us, who would presume to offer their thoughts, are for your infe- 
riors. It is true, indeed, that a great misfortune is apt to weaken 



i 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 85 

the mind, and disturb the understanding. This, indeed, might 
be some pretence to us to administer our consolations, if we had 
been wholly strangers to the person gone ; but, my lord, who- 
ever had the honour to know her, wants a comforter as much as 
your lordship ; because, though their loss is not so great, yet they 
have not the same firmness and prudence, to support the want of 
a friend, a patroness, a benefactor, as you have to support that 
of a daughter. My lord, both religion and reason forbid me to 
have the least concern for that lady's death, upon her own ac- 
count ; and he must be an ill Christian, or a perfect stranger to 
her virtues, who would not wish himself, with all submission to 
God Almighty's will, in her condition. But your lordship, who 
hath lost such a daughter, and we, who have lost such a friend, 
and the world, which hath lost such an example, have, in our 
several degrees, greater cause to lament than, perhaps, was ever 
given by any~private person before ; for, my lord, I have sat 
down to think of every amiable quality that could enter into the 
composition of a lady, and could not single out one which she did 
not possess in as high a perfection as human nature is capable 
of. But, as to your lordship's own particular, as it is an incon- 
ceivable misfortune to have lost such a daughter, so it is a pos- 
session which few can boast of, to have had such a daughter. I 
have often said to your lordship, that 1 never knew any one, by 
many degrees, so happy in their domestics as you ; and I affirm 
so still, though not by so many degrees ; from whence it is very 
obvious, that your lordship should reflect upon what you have 
left, and not upon what you have lost. 

To say the truth, my lord, you began to be too happy for a 
mortal ; much more happy than is usual with the dispensations 
of Providence long to continue. You had been the great instru- 
ment of preserving your country from foreign and domestic ruin : 
you have had the felicity of establishing your family in the great- 
est lustre, without any obligation to the bounty of your prince, or 
any industry of your own : you have triumphed over the violence 
and treachery of your enemies, by your courage and ability, and, 
by the steadiness of your temper, over the inconstancy and ca- 
price of your friends. Perhaps your lordship has felt too much 
complacency within yourself, upon this universal success; and 
God Almighty, who would not disappoint your endeavours for the 

a 



86 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

public, thought fit to punish you with a domestic loss, where he 
knew your heart was most exposed : and at the same time has 
fulfilled his own wise purposes, by rewarding, in a better life, 
that excellent creature he has taken from you. 

I know not, my lord, why I write this to you, nor hardly what 
I am writing. I am sure it is not from any compliance with 
form ; it is not from thinking that I can give your lordship any 
ease. I think it was an impulse upon me that I should say 
something, and whether I shall send you what I have written, I 
am yet in doubt. 



BATTLE OF POITIERS.— a. d. 730. 

The Saracens, led by Abderame, had invaded the southern pro- 
vinces of France. — Their innumerable army seemed like a tor- 
rent about to inundate the whole kingdom. 

Charles Martel displays the Oriflamme and calls to the combat 
his valiant legions. — He marches against the enemy with an 
army small in number, but every man an hero. 

It was on the plain of Poitiers that the fate of France was to be 
decided. 

Martel, holding in his hands the standard of France, implores 
the God of the Christians and animates his soldiers. — Prayer. — 
Speech to his soldiers.- — Short but animated description of the 
battle. — Single combat of Charles and Abderame. — Describe this 
combat. — Abderame is killed. — -Flight of the Saracens and tri- 
umph of the French. 



HEROISM & DELIVERANCE OF MODERN GREECE, 

a. d. 1821-'28. 

After some philosophical reflections upon the state of modern 
Greece under the Turkish domination, you will describe the be- 
ginning of the Greek revolution. — Barbarity of the Turks. — 
Courage of the Greeks. — A number of young Greeks, then stu- 
dents in different colleges of France, fly to the defence of their 
country. 

The whole of Europe is moved by the noble efforts of the 
Greeks. — France sends an army to the Morea. — The Turkish 



I 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 87 

troops oppose the debarkation. — Combat. — Rout of the Turkish 
troops. 

Ali, the Pacha of Egypt, although an ally of the Turks, goes 
to the French camp. — He is received with all the honours due to 
his station. — Review of the French troops. — Admiration of the 
Pacha of Egypt. — After the review the French General invites 
Ali to a feast.— The Pacha is moved by the courtesy of his host. 
— He promises no more to bear arms against Greece. — He gives 
his yataghan to the French General, who presents him with his 
his sword. — Protestations of friendship. 

A few weeks after, the Pacha of Egypt returned to his do- 
minions. 

After a struggle of seven years, Greece at last recovered its 
liberty. 



TEARS OF PERICLES.— 430 b. c. 

Attica was a prey to two terrible scourges, pestilence and war. 
— The anger of the Athenians was aroused against Pericles, who 
had advised the war to be undertaken. — Pericles was deprived of 
his generalship and afterwards fined. 

This disgrace does not lessen his courage. — He finds consola- 
tion in the practice of philosophy. — His friends, his relations, 
struck down by the pestilence, fall around him. — But Pericles 
does not sink under his losses. — His strength of mind is not sha- 
ken by them ; and he is not seen to weep or show the usual 
marks of sorrow at the grave of any of his relations. — Xanthip- 
pus, his eldest son, is carried off by the plague. — Pericles re- 
mains unmoved. — One son yet remains, who can console him 
for so many misfortunes. — He concentrates on his son Paralus ali 
his hopes and all his affections. 

When the pestilence had taken away this last consolation, Peri- 
cles, overwhelmed by so terrible a blow, endeavours to conceal 
his grief. — The funeral procession advances.— He seems master 
of himself. — But soon his grief bursts forth in a torrent of tears, 
mingled with sobs. — He presses closely to his breast the inani- 
mate remains of his son, and his firmness once conquered, he 
yields to nature that which she demands from the sensibility of 
a father. 



88 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 



narration. — By a French pupil. 

Pericles, le grand homme d'Athenes, ce citoyen qui 
donna son nom a son siecle, puisa dans les lecons des phi- 
losophes les hautes connaissances qui developperent et 
agrandirent en lui les heureux dons de la nature. Anaxa- 
gore sut donner a son ame un nouvel essor en Felevant a la 
decouverte des merveilles celestes ; Socrate lui-meme, dans 
ces assemblies celebres tenues chez Aspasie, ou Fautorite 
de la sagesse se melait a Pelegance des arts, laissa briller 
a ses yeux quelques-unes de ces vertus sublimes qui ont 
etonne les hommes, et dont son coeur souple aux grandes 
impressions se saisit aussitot. Mais Pericles, meme en 
faisant le bien, n'aspirait pas a etre vertueux ; il ne voulait 
que Padmiration de ses concitoyens, et tout ce qui lui parais- 
sait fait pour les eblouir seduisait egalement son ambition. 
Ce fut cet ardent desir de paraitre grand, cette politique 
soigneuse d'amener les esprits a une soumission volontaire, 
en les forcant a l'aveu de sa superiority, qui le conduisirent 
a Pecole de Zenon. La, il s'empara avec avidite de ces 
principes d'une philosophic mensongere qui n'habite point 
dans le coeur, mais qui est toute sur les levres et sur le 
visage. 11 apprit a depouiller cette sensibilite que la na- 
ture a deposee dans nos ames, pour adopter cette indiffe- 
rence qu'elle refuse a notre faiblesse ; ou plutot, il apprit 
comment on pouvait tromper les regards des hommes par 
des apparences, sembler calme lorsque l'on souffre, et defier 
encore la fortune alors meme qu'on se sent accable sous 
ses coups. Enfin, l'ambition seule fut le secret de sa phi- 
losophic, et de toutes les passions, celle qui porte le plus 
fortement l'empreinte de la faiblesse humaine, fut aussi 
celle qui lui inspira le desir insense de paraitre plus qu'un 
homme. 

Cependant le temps des epreuves etait venu : la fortune 
se lassa d'etre constante, et commenca la lutte contre son 
favori. D'abord elle Tattaqua dans son propre ouvrage, 
dans l'amour du peuple. II avait conseille la guerre ; elle 
fut malheureuse. La peste vint encore joindre ses horreurs 
a ce fleau terrible ; et pendant que Pennemi ravageait le 
sol de PAttique, elle desola la cite de Minerve. En proie 
a cet exces de maux, entoures de tous cotes de la mort, vic- 
times de la contagion ou du fer des vainqueurs, les Athe- 
niens accuserent Pericles : dans leur desespoir, ils lui 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 89 

dterent le commandement ct le condamnerent a une amende, 
Son courage resta ferme ; il se souvint qu'au temps de 
Cimon et de Thucydide, Porigine de sa puissance avait ete 
un adroit mepris des honneurs, et, comptant sur la legerete 
des Atheniens qu'il avait vus cent fois passer de Pamour a 
la fureur et de la fureur au repentir, il arTecta de mepriser 
leur courroux pour en triompher. 

Ainsi la philosophic eut Phonneur de cette premiere vic- 
toire ; mais le combat n'etait point flni. La peste s'accroit 
et semble choisir ses victimes ; il voit tomber autour de lui 
ses parents et ses amis ; Xantippe son fils perit lui-meme. 
Vaine attaque ! le disciple de Zenon n'a point pali : seule- 
ment il dit a Paralus : " Ton frere n'est plus : les dieux ne 
m'ont laisse que toi ; possede seul toute ma tendresse, reu* 
nis seul toutes mes esperances." La mort le frappe aussi, 
et il semble que ces paroles soient son arret. 

Alors, pour la premiere fois, etonne de cette opiniatrete 
du malheur, sa Constance chancela. Sa douleur lui de- 
manda des larmes, mais Porgueil s'eleva aussitot contre la 
nature, et elle fut reduite a se venger en dechirant le sein 
ou elle etait retenue captive. 

Cependant la pompe funebre s'avance. Le voila ce fils, 
dernier espoir d'une famille illustre, lui que sa naissance 
appelait aux plus hautes destinees, et qui naguere, brillant 
de jeunesse et de tous les dons d'une heureuse nature, 
promettait a Athenes un citoyen digne de son amour et de 
ses faveurs, a Pericles, un successeur fait pour relever sa 
fortune. Maintenant, moissonne dans la fleur de Page, il 
est etendu sous le linceul funebre, emportant avec lui ces 
doux songes dans la tombe. Lui seul pouvait consoler 
un pere lui seul pouvait encore Paider a braver les coups 
d'une fortune ardente a le poursuivre, et il n'est plus ! 
Telles etaient les pensees cruelles qui agitaient le cceur de 
Pericles ; mais on eut dit que son ame etait tranquille, tant 
il savait commander a la nature, alors meme que son tri- 
omphe secret le livrait en proie aux tourments les plus 
aigus! Cependant, plus il semblait maitriser sa douleur, 
plus le moment approchait ou elle allait eclater avec toutes 
ses forces ; car dans cette contrainte de Pame, il n'y a qu'un 
instant entre la plus grande serenite et Pexces du desespoir. 
Pericles s'approche pour placer la couronne sur la tete du 
mort ; c'etait la que la nature Pattendait pour lui faire 
connaitre son empire. Tout a coup, a la vue de ce cadavre 
8* 



90 NEW ZETETIC B1ETHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

cheri, il se trouble : un changement visible s'opere dans 
ses traits qui ne respiraient naguere qu'une immobile in- 
difference ; il sent qu'en trompant la multitude il n'a pu se 
tromper lui-meme ; sa poitrine oppressee a besoin de san- 
glots. Enfin il cede, l'orgueil s'immole a la tendresse pa- 
ternelle, il ne voit plus Athenes qui l'entoure, ni les cruelles 
entraves de sa feinte Constance ; il s'elance sur ce corps 
inanime, le presse dans ses bras, et un torrent de larmes 
vient soulager sa souffrance. Alors on vit les Atheniens 
changes tout a coup avec Pericles, oublier leur propre in- 
fortune pour pleurer la sienne avec lui ; et, loin d'accuser 
sa faiblesse, ils admirerent le grand homme glorieusement 
vaincu par la nature. 



the same subject. — By a French pupil. 

La seconde annee de la guerre du Peloponnese, un hor- 
rible fleau s'etendit dans les campagnes de la Thessalie et 
de la Phocide ; la peste vint augmenter les ravages des 
armes, et ce fut comme un chatiment inflige aux Grecs par 
les dieux, pour les punir d'avoir tourne les uns contre les 
autres les glaives qu'ils n'auraient du teindre que du sang 
des Perses. 

Mais ce fut dans l'Attique que ce fleau se repandit avec 
le plus de fureur. Depuis les champs de Marathon jusqu'au 
port du Piree, tout fut la proie du mal : les jeux publics 
cesserent, les fetes des dieux furent interrompues, le Cera- 
mique se combla de cadavres qu'on n 7 avait pas rapportes 
des combats. 

En ce meme temps, une armee de Spartiates poussa ses 
ravages jusqu'au pied des murs de la ville, et les Atheni- 
ens commencerent a perdre courage, presses par l'ennemi 
<au dehors, par la peste au dedans. Des murmures eclate- 
rent; et, comme il arrive dans les republiques que le peu- 
ple rejette les fautes sur ceux qui, places a sa tete, attirent 
de]a Penvie par leur puissance et leur gloire, Pericles fut 
hautement accuse. " C'est lui qui a refuse toutes les con- 
ditions ; c'est lui qui a engage la guerre par le secours de 
Corcyre, par l'attaque des Corinthiens, par le siege de Po- 
tidee. Aussi les dieux ont maudi leurs armes ; l'ennemi 
sous leurs yeux ravage leurs moissons, la peste detruit leurs 
guerriers \ ils meurent tous dans la ville ; encore s'ils pou- 



NARRATIONS AND LETTERS* 91 

vaient perir en combattant ! Mais Pericles se defie de leur 
courage ; il les retient dans les murs ; il laisse les Lace- 
demoniens renverser tranquillement les trophees de Mara- 
thon." C'est ainsi que s'indignait le peuple, et Pericles 
ne chercha point a se justifier. Pour la premiere fois, de- 
puis quarante ans, il desespera de calmer ce premier trans- 
port de colere qu'irritait le danger. II se laissa condamner, 
pour satisfaire la jalousie, et il fut decide que Pericles ne 
gouvernerait plus Athenes. 

Ce n'etait rien encore. L'inconstance du peuple, le be- 
soin d'un chef, un discours de Pericles eut bientot fait 
changer les esprits : il aurait ressaisi le pouvoir, il aurait 
continue la guerre. Mais il devait souffrir dans sa propre 
famille ; il devait etre entraine loin des affaires par des 
souffrances plus douloureuses, par des pertes plus cruelles, 
parce qu'elles blesseraient plus que son ambition. 

Apres tant d'annees de prosperites et de bonheur, le 
heros d'Athenes vit tomber autour de lui ses amis, ses pa- 
rents, frappes du meme coup: la contagion vint jusqu'a 
lui, penetra parmi les siens ; Xantippe son flls mourut dans 
ses bras. Le peuple apprit de sang-froid le trepas du fils 
de Pericles ; endurci depuis longtemps aux spectacles de 
mort, il vit sans douleur le corps de Xantippe expose sur le 
seuil de sa maison, et meme ce fut pour lui, dans la desola- 
tion commune, une certaine consolation de voir celui qu'il 
accusait de ses maux en partager la peine. 

Pericles ne parut pas ebranle ; les traits du philosophe 
dissimulerent la douleur du pere, mais il fut touche vive- 
ment dans son coeur. 

II lui restait encore un flls. II reporta sur Paralus toutes 
ses affections, toutes ses tendresses paternelles ; et, si Peri- 
cles n'avait pas pleure sur le tombeau de son fils, il montra 
du moins par 1'amour plus tendre qu'il temoigna au frere 
combien il avait aime Xantippe. Paralus devint sa seule 
esperance dans la solittide qui Penvironnait, il vit en Para- 
lus tout ce qu'il avait perdu, Paralus devait l'aider a sup- 
porter la vie, il devait le consoler de l'ingratitude d'Athenes. 

Mais les dieux en ordonnerent autrement ; et, comme 
s'ils avaient aussi condamne Pericles, ils le frapperent dans 
ce qu'il conservait de plus cher ; le dernier de ses fils perit 
sous ses yeux, et la joie de ses dernieres annees fut a ja- 
mais perdue. 

Pericles cependant craignit de se dementir: il voulut 



92 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

garder jusqu'au bout la fermete du philosophe : il suspen- 
dit lui-meme a sa porte les branches de laurier et de cypres, 
il lava lui-meme le corps du malheureux Paralus, ii le 
revetit des plus riches vetements, il le parfuma d'essences, 
et dans Paccomplissement de ces derniers devoirs, il ne 
laissa pas surprendre un seul gemissement. 

Athenes entendit avec compassion le bruit de cette nou- 
velle perte. Elle avait cru Pericles assez puni par la mort 
de Xantippe, et elle s'emut cette fois du malheur de son 
heros. Le peuple s'assembla autour de sa maison ; il fit 
des prieres solennelles a Mercure, au conducteur des ames, 
et il accompagna Paralus a sa derniere demeure. Pericles 
avec la foule, suivit la pompe funebre. Environne de ceux 
qui le mandissaient tout a Pheure, il s'avaneait dans le si- 
lence du desespoir et de Pabattement ; mais tout etait ren- 
ferme au fond de son ame ; rien ne paraissait au dehors, et 
le peuple s'etonnait d'une fermete qui lui semblait plus 
qu'humaine. 

La philosophic cependant ne put pas toujours soutenir ce 
vain dehors de force contre les troubles et les combats du 
cceur. L'eleve d'Anaxagore redevint bientot pere et quand 
il lui fallut placer la couronne sur la tete du mort, il fondit 
en larmes. 

Pleure, pleure, Pericles ! ne cache point tes larmes : ta 
grandeur d'ame est connue ; la sensibilite du pere ne ter- 
nira pas la gloire du heros ; c'est la dette de la nature que 
tu acquittes. Athenes n'attend plus que tes larmes, pour 
reparer ses fautes et te rendre son amour. 

Mais, 6 Pericles ! rends grace au ciel de n'avoir pas 
vecu longtemps apres Xantippe et Paralus ! Tu aurais vu 
comment l'isssue de la guerre amenerait de nouveaux de- 
sastres pour ta patrie, et cette fois tu n'aurais pas retenu 
tes larmes : mais les dieux t'envoyerent la mort comme un 
bienfait ; tu n'as pas survecu a ta gloire. 



END OF SECOND SERIES. 



NEWZETETIC METHOD 

FOR ENGLISH COMPOSITION. 



^art JFottrth, 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 



DESCRIPTIONS— precepts.— Blair. 

Description is the great test of a poet's imagination ; and 
always distinguishes an original from a second-rate genius. 
To a writer of the inferior class, nature, when at any time 
he attempts to describe it, appears exhausted by those who 
have gone before him in the same track. He sees nothing 
new, or peculiar, in the object which he would paint ; his 
conceptions of it are loose and vague ; and his expressions, 
of course, feeble and general. He gives us words, rather 
than ideas ; we meet with the language indeed of poet- 
ical description, but we apprehend the object described very 
indistinctly. Whereas, a true poet makes us imagine that 
we see it before our eyes ; he catches the distinguishing 
features ; he gives it the colours of life and reality ; he 
places it in such a light, that a painter could copy after 
him. This happy talent is chiefly owing to a strong ima- 
gination, which first receives a lively impression of the ob- 
ject ; and then, by employing a proper selection of circum- 
stances in describing it, transmits that impression, in its full 
force, to the imagination of others. 

In this selection of circumstances, lies the great art of 
picturesque description. In the first place, they ought not 
to be vulgar, and common ones, such as are apt to pass by 
without remark ; but, as much as possible, new and origi- 
nal, which may catch the fancy, and draw attention. In 



94 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

the next place, they ought to be such as particularize the 
object described, and mark it strongly. No description, 
that rests in generals, can be good, for we can conceive 
nothing clearly in the abstract ; all distinct ideas are formed 
upon particulars. In the third place, all the circumstances 
employed ought to be uniform, and of a piece ; that is, when 
describing a great object, every circumstance brought into 
view should tend to aggrandize ; or, when describing a gay 
and pleasant one, should tend to beautify, that, by this 
means, the impression may rest upon the imagination com- 
plete and entire. And lastly, the circumstances in des- 
cription should be expressed with consciousness, and with 
simplicity ; for, when either too much exaggerated, or too 
long dwelt upon and extended, they never fail to enfeeble 
the expression that is designed to be made. Brevity, almost 
always, contributes to vivacity. These general rules will be 
best understood by illustrations, founded on particular in- 
stances. 



RECEPTION OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, 
AFTER HIS FIRST VOYAGE.— 1493 A. C. 

Argument.— Columbus announces his arrival and success. — 
Ferdinand sends a letter, to request him to repair immediately to 
the Court at Barcelona. — You will describe the triumphal recep- 
tion he received everywhere. 

About the middle of April, Columbus arrived at Barcelona. — 
You will describe his entrance in that city, — procession, Indians, 
parrots, birds, and animals of unknown species, plants, decora- 
tions of gold, &c, &c. — Columbus, on horseback, closed the pro- 
cession. 

The King and Queen, seated upon their throne, received him* 
— You will describe the entrance of Columbus. — He gives an 
account of his voyage. 

When Columbus had finished his narration, the King and 
Queen offered up thanks to God, for the discovery of these new 
regions. 

Every mark of honour was conferred upon Columbus. 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 95 



narration. — Robertson. 

The first care of Columbus was to inform the King and 
Queen, who were at Barcelona, of his arrival and success. 
Ferdinand and Isabella, no less astonished than delighted 
with this unexpected event, returned an answer in terms the 
most respectful and flattering to Columbus, requesting him 
to repair immediately to court, that, from his own mouth, 
they might receive a full detail of his extraordinary servi- 
ces and discoveries. During his journey to Barcelona, the 
people crowded from the adjacent country, followed him 
everywhere with admiration and surprise. His entrance 
into the city was conducted, by order of Ferdinand and Is- 
abella, with pomp suitable to the great event, which added 
so distinguishing lustre to their reign. The people whom 
he brought along with him from the countries which he had 
discovered, marched first, and by their singular complex- 
ion, the wild peculiarity of their features, and uncouth 
finery, appeared like men of another species. Next to 
them were carried the ornaments of gold, fashioned by the 
rude art of the natives, the grains of gold found in the 
mountains, and dust of the same metal, gathered in the 
rivers. After these, appeared the various commodities of 
the newly discovered countries, together with their various 
productions. Columbus himself closed the procession, and 
attracted the eyes of all spectators, who gazed with admi- 
ration on the extraordinary man, whose superior sagacity 
and fortitude had conducted their countrymen, by a route 
concealed from past ages, to the knowledge of a new world. 
Ferdinand and Isabella received him clad in their royal 
robes, and seated upon a throne, under a magnificent cano- 
py. When he approached, they stood up, and raising him 
as he kneeled to kiss their hands, commanded him to take 
his seat upon a chair prepared for him, and to give a cir- 
cumstantial account of his voyage. He delivered it with a 
gravity and composure no less suitable to the disposition of 
the Spanish nation, than to the dignity of the audience in 
which he spoke, and with that modest simplicity which cha- 
racterizes men of superior minds, who, satisfied with having 
performed great actions, court no vain applause by an os- 
tentatious display of their exploits. 

When he had finished his narration, the King and Queen, 



96 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

kneeling down, offered up solemn thanks to Almighty God, 
for the discovery of these new regions, from which they 
expected so many advantages to flow on the kingdoms sub- 
ject to their government. Every mark of honour that 
gratitude and admiration could suggest, was conferred up- 
on Columbus. Letters-patent were issued, confirming to 
him and his heirs all the privileges contained in the ca- 
pitulation concluded at Santa Fe ; his family was ennobled ; 
the King and Queen, and after their examples, the courtiers, 
treated him, on every occasion, with all the ceremonious re- 
spect paid to persons of the highest rank. But what pleased 
him the most, as it gratified the enterprizing activity of 
his mind, bent continually upon great objects, was an order 
to equip, without delay, an armament of such force as 
might enable him not only to take possession of the coun- 
tries which he had already discovered, but to go in search 
of those more opulent regions which he still confidently ex- 
pected to find. 



THE SAME SUBJECT. W. Irving. 

The letter of Columbus to the Spanish monarchs, an- 
nouncing his discovery, had produced the greatest sensa- 
tion at court. This event was considered the most extraor- 
dinary of their prosperous reign, and following so close upon 
the conquest of Granada, was pronounced as a signal mark 
of Divine favour, for that triumph was achieved in the cause 
of the true faith. The sovereigns themselves were, for a 
time, dazzled and bewildered by this sudden and easy ac- 
quisition of a new empire, of indefinite extent, and appa- 
rently boundless wealth ; and their first idea was, to secure 
it beyond the reach of question or competition. Shortly 
after his arrival in Seville, Columbus received a letter from 
them, expressing their great delight, and requesting him to 
repair immediately to court, to concert plans for a second 
and more extensive expedition. As the summer was already 
advancing, the time favourable for a voyage, they desired 
him to make any arrangements at Seville, or elsewhere, that 
might hasten the expedition, and to inform them, by the re- 
turn of the courier, what was necessary to be done on their 
part. This letter was addressed to him by the title of " Don 
Christopher Columbus, our admiral of the ocean sea, and 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 97 

viceroy and governor of the islands discovered in the In- 
dias." At the same time, he was promised still further re- 
wards. Columbus lost no time in complying with the com- 
mands of the sovereigns. He sent a memorandum of the 
ships, men, and munitions that would be requisite ; and 
having made such dispositions at Seville as circumstances 
permitted, set out on his journey for Barcelona, taking with 
him the six Indians and the various curiosities and produc- 
tions which he had brought from the New World. 

The fame of his discovery had resounded throughout the 
nation, and as his route lay through several of the finest 
and most populous provinces of Spain, his journey appeared 
like the progress of a sovereign. Wherever he passed, the 
surrounding country poured forth its inhabitants, who lined 
the road and thronged the villages. In the large towns, the 
streets, windows, and balconies, were filled with eager spec- 
tators, who rent the air with acclamations. His journey 
was continually impeded by the multitude pressing to gain 
a sight of him, and of the Indians, who were regarded with 
as much admiration as if they had been natives of another 
planet. It was impossible to satisfy the craving curiosity 
which assailed himself and his attendants, at every stage, 
with innumerable questions ; popular rumour, as usual, had 
exaggerated the truth, and had filled the newly-found coun- 
try with all kinds of wonders. 

It was about the middle of April that Columbus had ar- 
rived at Barcelona, where every preparation had been 
made to give him a solemn and magnificent reception. The 
beauty and serenity of the weather in that genial season, 
and favoured climate, contributed to give splendour to this 
memorable ceremony. As he drew near the place, many 
of the more youthful courtiers and hidalgos of gallant 
bearing, together with a vast concourse of populace, came 
forth to meet and welcome him. His entrance into this 
noble city has been compared to one of those triumphs 
which the Romans were accustomed to decree to conquer- 
ors. First were paraded the Indians, painted according to 
their savage fashion, and decorated with tropical feathers, 
and with their national ornaments of gold ; after these were 
borne various kinds of live parrots, together with stuffed 
birds and animals of unknown species, and rare plants sup- 
posed to be of precious qualities ; while great care was 
taken to make a conspicuous display of Indian coronets, 
9 



98 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

bracelets, and other decorations of gold, which might give 
an idea of the wealth of the newly-discovered regions. 
After these, followed Columbus, on horseback, surrounded 
by a brilliant cavalcade of Spanish chivalry. The streets 
were almost impassable, from the countless multitude ; the 
windows and balconies were crowded with the fair ; the 
very roofs were covered with spectators. It seemed as if 
the public eye could not be sated with gazing on these tro- 
phies of an unknown world, or on the remarkable man by 
whom it had been discovered. 

There was a sublimity in this event that mingled a 
solemn feeling with the public joy. It was looked upon as 
a vast and signal dispensation of Providence, in reward for 
the piety of the monarchs \ and the majestic and venerable 
appearance of the discoverer, so different from the youth 
and buoyancy that are generally expected from roving en- 
terprise, seemed in harmony with the grandeur and dignity 
of his achievement. 

To receive him with suitable pomp and distinction, the 
sovereigns had ordered their throne to be placed in public, 
under a rich canopy of brocade of gold, in a vast and 
splendid saloon. Here the King and Queen awaited his 
arrival, seated in state, with the Prince Juan beside them, 
and attended by the dignitaries of their court and the prin- 
cipal nobility of Castile, Valentia, Catalonia, and Arragon ; 
all impatient to behold the man who had conferred so in- 
calculable a benefit upon the nation. At length, Colum- 
bus entered the hall, surrounded by a brilliant crowd of 
cavaliers, among whom, says Las Casas, he was conspicu- 
ous for his stately and commanding person, which, with his 
countenance rendered venerable by his grey hairs, gave 
him the august appearance of a senator of Rome. A 
modest smile lighted up his features, showing that he en- 
joyed the state and glory in which he came ; and certainly 
- y nothing could be more deeply moving to a mind inflamed by 
noble ambition, and conscious of having greatly deserved, 
than these testimonials of the admiration and gratitude of a 
nation, or rather of a world. As Columbus approached, 
the sovereigns rose, as if receiving a person of the highest 
rank. Bending his knees, he requested to kiss their hands, 
but there was some hesitation on the part of their majesties 
to permit this act of vassalage. Raising him in the most 
gracious manner, they ordered him to seat himself in their 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 99 

presence : a rare honour in this proud and punctilious 
court. 

At the request of their majesties, Columbus now gave 
an account of the most striking events of his voyage, and 
a description of the islands which he had discovered. He 
displayed the specimens he had brought of unknown birds 
and other animals, of rare plants of medical and aromatic 
virtue, of native gold, in dust, in crude masses, or laboured 
into barbaric ornaments, and, above all, the natives of these 
countries, who were objects of intense and inexpressible 
interest, since there is nothing to man so curious as the va- 
rieties of his own species. All these he pronounced mere 
harbingers of greater discoveries he had yet to make, 
which would add realms of incalculable wealth to the do- 
minions of their majesties, and whole nations of proselytes 
to the true faith. 

The words of Columbus were listened to with profound 
emotion by the sovereigns. When he had finished, they 
sunk on their knees, and raising their clasped hands to 
heaven, their eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude, 
they poured forth thanks and praises to God for so great a 
providence ; all present followed their example ; a deep 
and solemn enthusiasm pervaded that splendid assembly, 
and prevented all common acclamations of triumph. The 
anthem of Te Deum laudamus, chanted by the choir of the 
royal chapel, with the melodious accompaniments of the 
instruments, rose up from the midst in a full body of sacred 
harmony, bearing up, as it were, the feelings and thoughts 
of the auditors to heaven, u so that/' says the venerable 
Las Gasas, " it seemed as if in that hour they communi- 
cated with celestial delights. " Such was the solemn and 
pious manner in which the brilliant court of Spain cele- 
brated this sublime event, offering up a grateful tribute of 
melody and praise, and giving glory to God for the dis- 
covery of another world. 

When Columbus retired from the royal presence, he was 
attended to his residence by all the court, and followed by 
the shouting populace. For many days, he was the ob- 
ject of universal curiosity, and wherever he appeared, he 
was surrounded by an admiring multitude. 



100 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 



SPEECHES— precepts.— Blair. 

Whether nature or art contributes most to form an orator, 
is a trifling inquiry ; in all attainments whatever, nature 
must be the prime agent,— she must bestow the original 
talents, she must sow the seeds ; but culture is requisite 
for bringing these seeds to perfection. Nature must always 
have done somewhat ; but a great deal will always be left to 
be done by art. 

What stands highest in the order of means, is personal 
character and disposition. In order to be a truly eloquent 
or persuasive speaker, nothing is more necessary than to be 
a virtuous man. 

For, consider first, whether anything contributes more to 
persuasion than the opinion which we entertain of the pro- 
bity, disinterestedness, candour, and other good moral qual- 
ities of the person who endeavours to persuade us ? These 
give weight to everything which he utters ; nay, they add 
a beauty to it ; they dispose us to listen with attention and 
pleasure, and create a secret partiality in favour of that side 
he espouses. Whereas, if we entertain a suspicion of craft 
and disingenuity, of a corrupt or a base mind in the speaker, 
his eloquence loses all its real effect. It may entertain or 
amuse, but is viewed as artifice, as trick, as the play only 
of speech ; and viewed in this light, whom can it persuade ? 
We even read a book with more pleasure when we think 
favourably of its author ; but when we have the living 
speaker before our eyes, addressing us personally on some 
subject of importance, the opinion we entertain of his char- 
acter must have a much more powerful effect. 

Next to moral qualifications, what, in the second place, 
is most necessary to an orator, is a fund of knowledge. 
We must never forget that good sense and knowledge are 
the foundation of all good speaking. There is no art that 
can teach one to be eloquent, in any sphere, without a suffi- 
cient acquaintance with what belongs to that sphere ; or if 
mere were an art that made such pretensions, it would be 
there quackery, like the pretensions of the sophists of old, 
to teach their disciples to speak for and against every sub- 
ject ; and would be deservedly exploded by all wise men. 
Attention to style, composition, and all the arts of speech, 
can only assist an orator in setting off to advantage the 
stock of materials which he possesses ; but the stock, the 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 101 

materials themselves, must be brought from other quarters 
than from rhetoric. He who is to plead at the bar must 
make himself thoroughly master of the knowledge of the 
law ; of all the learning and experience that can be useful 
in his profession, for supporting a cause, or convincing a 
judge. He who is to speak from the pulpit, must apply 
himself closely to the study of divinity, of practical relig- 
ion, of morals, of human nature ; that he may be rich in 
all the topics, both of instruction and persuasion. He who 
would fit himself for being a member of the supreme coun- 
cil of the nation, or of any public assembly, must be thor- 
oughly acquainted with the business that belongs to such an 
assembly ; he must study the forms of court, the course of 
procedure, and must attend minutely to all the facts that 
may be the subject of question or deliberation. 

Besides the knowledge that properly belongs to his pro- 
fession, a public speaker, if ever he expects to be eminent, 
must make himself acquainted, as far as his necessary oc- 
cupations will allow, with the general circle of polite lite- 
rature. The study of poetry may be useful to him, on 
many occasions, for embellishing his style, for suggesting 
lively images, or agreeable allusions. The study of history 
may be still more useful to him ; as the knowledge of 
facts, of eminent characters, and of the course of human 
affairs, finds place on many occasions. There are few great 
occasions of public speaking in which one may not derive 
assistance from cultivated taste and extensive knowledge. 
They will often yield him materials for proper ornament ; 
sometimes for argument and real use. A deficiency of 
knowledge, even in subjects that belong not directly to his 
own profession, will expose him to many disadvantages, and 
give better qualified rivals a great superiority over him. 

Allow me to recommend, in the third place, a habit of 
application and industry ; without this, it is impossible to 
excel in anything. We must not imagine, that it is by a 
sort of mushroom growth that one can rise to be a distin- 
guished pleader, or preacher, or speaker in an assembly. 
It is not by starts of application, or by a few years' prepa- 
ration of study, afterwards discontinued, that eminence can 
be attained. No ; it can be attained only by means of reg- 
ular industry, grown up into a habit, and ready to be ex- 
erted on every occasion that calls for industry. This is the 
fixed law of our nature \ and he must have a very high 
9* 



102 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

opinion of his own genius indeed, that can believe himself 
an exception to it. 

In the fourth place, attention to the best models will con- 
tribute greatly towards improvements. Every one who 
speaks or writes, should, indeed, endeavour to have somewhat 
that is his own, that is peculiar to himself, and that char- 
acterises his composition and style. Slavish imitation de- 
presses genius, or rather betrays the want of it. But 
withal, there is no genius so original but may be profited 
and assisted by the aid of proper examples in style, compo- 
sition, and delivery. They always open some new ideas ; 
they serve to enlarge and correct our own. They quicken 
the current of thought, and excite emulation. 

In the fifth place, besides attention to the best models, fre- 
quent exercise, both in composing and speaking, will be ad- 
mitted to be necessary means of improvement. That sort 
of composition is, doubtless, most useful, which relates to the 
profession, or kind of public speaking, to which persons ad- 
dict themselves. This they should keep ever in their eye, 
and be gradually inuring themselves to it. But let me also 
advise them not to allow themselves in negligent composi- 
tion of any kind. He who has it for his aim to write or to 
speak correctly, should, in the most trivial kind of compo- 
sition, in writing a letter, nay, even in common discourse, 
study to acquit himself with propriety. There is, in every 
thing, a manner which is becoming, and has propriety ; and 
opposite to it, there is a clumsy and faulty performance of 
the same thing. The becoming manner is very often the 
most light, and seemingly careless manner ; but it requires 
taste and attention to seize the just idea of it. That idea, 
when acquired, we should keep in our eye, and form upon 
it whatever we write or say. 

It now only remains to inquire, of what use the study of 
critical and rhetorical writers may be for improving one in 
the practice of eloquence. These are certainly not to be 
neglected ; and yet, I dare not say that much is to be ex- 
pected from them. For professed writers on public speak- 
ing, we must look chiefly among the ancients. In modern 
times, popular eloquence, as an art, has never been very 
much the object of study ; it has not the same powerful 
effects among us that it had in more democratical states, 
and therefore has not been cultivated with the same care. 
Among the moderns, though there has been a great deal of 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 108 

good criticism on the different kinds of writing, yet much 
has not been attempted on the subject of eloquence or public 
discourse ; and what has been given us of that kind, has 
been drawn mostly from the ancients. 

It is to the original ancient writers that we must chiefly 
have recourse ; and it is a reproach to any one, whose pro- 
fession calls him to speak in public, to be unacquainted with 
them. In all the ancient rhetorical writers, there is, in- 
deed, this defect, that they are too systematical ; they aim 
at doing too much ; — at reducing rhetoric to a complete and 
perfect art, which may even supply invention with mate- 
rials on every subject ; insomuch that one would imagine 
they expected to form an orator by rule, in as mechanical 
a manner as one would form a carpenter. Whereas all 
that can, in truth, be done, is to give directions for assisting 
and enlightening taste, and for pointing out to genius the 
course it ought to hold. 



GRECIAN ELOQUENCE. 

It is not till the rise of Grecian republics that we find 
any remarkable appearances of eloquence as the art of per- 
suasion ; and these gave it such a field as it never had be- 
fore, and, perhaps, has never had again since that time. 

Greece was divided into a multitude of petty states. 
These were governed, at first, by kings, who were called 
tyrants, on whose expulsion from all these states, there sprang 
up a great number of democratical governments, founded 
nearly on the same plan, animated by the same high spirit 
of freedom, mutually jealous, and rivals of one another. 

Of these Grecian republics, the most noted, by far, for 
eloquence, and, indeed, for arts of every kind, was that of 
Athens. The Athenians were an ingenious, quick, spright- 
ly people, practised in business, and sharpened by the fre- 
quent and sudden revolutions which happened in their go- 
vernment. The genius of this government was altogether 
democratical ; their legislature consisted of the whole 
body of the people. They had, indeed, a senate of five 
hundred ; but in the general convention of the citizens was 
placed the last resort ; and affairs were conducted there en- 
tirely by reasoning, speaking, and a skilful application to 
the passions and interests of a popular assembly. There 



104 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

laws were made, peace and war decreed, and thence the 
magistrates were chosen, for the highest honours of the 
states were alike open to all, nor was the meanest trades- 
man excluded from a seat in their supreme courts. In 
such a state, eloquence, it is obvious, would be much studi- 
ed, as the surest means of rising to influence and power ; 
and what sort of eloquence ? Not that which was brilli- 
ant, merely, and showy, but that which was found, upon 
trial, to be most effectual for convincing, interesting, and 
persuading the hearers ; for there public speaking was not 
a mere competition for empty applause, but a serious con- 
tention for that public leading which was the great object 
both of the men of ambition and the men of virtue. 

In so enlightened and acute a nation, where the highest 
attention was paid to every thing elegant in the arts, we 
may naturally expect to find the public taste refined and 
judicious. Accordingly, it was improved to such a de- 
gree, that the Attic taste and Attic manner have passed into 
a proverb. It is true, that ambitious demagogues and cor- 
rupt orators did sometimes dazzle and mislead the people, 
by a showy but false eloquence ; for the Athenians, with all 
their acuteness, were factious and giddy, and great ad- 
mirers of every novelty. But when some important inter- 
est drew their attention, when any great danger roused 
them, and put their judgment to a serious trial, they com- 
monly distinguished, very justly, between genuine and spu- 
rious eloquence ; and hence Demosthenes triumphed over 
all his opponents, because he spoke always to the purpose, 
affected no insignificant parade of words, used weighty ar- 
guments, and showed them clearly where their interest lay. 
In critical conjunctures of the state, when the public was 
alarmed with some pressing danger, when the people were 
assembled, and proclamation was made by the crier for any 
one to rise and deliver his opinion upon the present situa- 
tion of affairs, empty declamation and sophistical reason- 
ing would not only have been hissed, but resented and pun- 
ished by an assembly so intelligent and accustomed to busi- 
ness. Their greatest orators trembled on such occasions, 
when they rose to address the people, as they knew they 
were to be held answerable for the issue of the counsel 
which they gave. The most liberal endowments of the 
greatest princes never could found such a school for true 
oratory as was formed by the nature of the Athenian re- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 105 

public. Eloquence there sprung, native and vigorous, 
from amidst the contention of faction and freedom, of pub- 
lic business and of active life ; and not from that of retire- 
ment and speculation, which we are apt, sometimes, to 
fancy more favourable to eloquence than they are found to 
be. 



ROMAN ELOQUENCE. 

When we compare together the various productions of 
Greece and Rome, we shall always find this distinction ob- 
tained, that in the Greek productions there is more native 
genius ; in the Romans, more regularity and art. What 
the Greeks invented, the Romans polished ; the one was 
original, rough sometimes, and incorrect ; the other a finished 
copy. 

As the Roman government, during the republic, was of 
the popular kind, there is no doubt but that, in the hands of 
the leading men, public speaking became early an engine of 
government, and was employed for gaining distinction and 
power ; but in the rude unpolished times of the state, their 
speaking was hardly of that sort that could be called elo- 
quence. Though Cicero endeavours to give some reputa- 
tion to the elder Cato, and those who were his contempora- 
ries, vet he acknowledges it to have been " a rude and harsh 
strain of speech." It was not till a short time preceding 
Cicero's age, that the Roman orators rose into any note. 
Crassus and Antonius, two of the speakers in the dialogue 
de oratore, appear to have been the most eminent, whose 
different manners Cicero describes with great beauty in that 
dialogue, and in his other rhetorical works ; but as none of 
their productions are extant, nor any of Hortensius', who 
was Cicero's contemporary and rival at the bar, it is need- 
less to transcribe from Cicero's writings the account which 
he gives of those great men, and of the character of their 
eloquence. 

The object of this period most worthy to draw our atten- 
tion, is Cicero himself, whose name alone suggests every 
thing that is splendid in oratory. His method is clear, and 
his arguments are arranged with great propriety. He never 
attempts to move till he has endeavoured to convince ; and 
in moving, especially the softer passions, he is very success- 



106 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

ful. No man knew the power and force of words better 
than Cicero. He rolls them along with the greatest beauty 
and pomp ; and in the structure of his sentences, is curi- 
ous and exact to the highest degree. He is always full and 
flowing, never abrupt. He is a great amplifier on every 
subject : magnificent, and in his sentiments highly moral. 
His manner is. on the whole, diffuse, yet it is often happily 
varied, and suited to the subject. When a great public 
object roused his mind, and demanded indignation and force, 
he departs considerably from that loose and declamatory 
manner to which he leans at other times, and becomes ex- 
ceedingly cogent and vehement. 



ENGLISH AND FRENCH ELOQUENCE. 

It seems particularly surprising that Great Britain should 
not have made a more conspicuous figure in eloquence than 
it has hitherto attained, when we consider the enlightened, 
and, at the same time, the free and bold genius of the coun- 
try, which seems not a little to favour oratory ; and when 
we consider that, of all the polite nations, it alone possesses 
a -popular government, or admits into the legislature such 
numerous assemblies as can be supposed to lie under the 
dominion of eloquence. Notwithstanding this advantage, 
it must be confessed that, in most parts of eloquence, we 
are undoubtedly inferior, not only to the Greeks and Ro- 
mans, by many degrees, but also, in some respects, to the 
French. We have philosophers, eminent and conspicuous, 
perhaps beyond any nation, in every branch of science. 
We have both taste and erudition, in a high degree. We 
have historians, we have poets of the greatest name ; but 
of orators, or public speakers, how little we have to boast ! 
And where are the monuments of their genius to be found ? 
In every period, we have had some who made a figure, by 
managing the debates in parliament ; but that figure was 
commonly owing to their wisdom, or their experience in 
business, more than to their talents for oratory, and, unless 
in some few instances, wherein the power of oratory has 
appeared, indeed, with much lustre, the art of parliamentary 
speaking has rather obtained for several a temporary ap- 
plause, than conferred upon any -a lasting renown. At the 
bar ; though, questionless, we have had many able pleaders, 



mmm 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 107 

yet few or none of their pleadings have been thought 
worthy to be transmitted to posterity. In the same manner, 
the British divines have distinguished themselves by the 
most accurate and rational compositions which, perhaps, 
any nation can boast of. Many printed sermons we have, 
full of good sense, and of sound divinity and morality ; but 
the eloquence to be found in them, the power of persua- 
sion, of interesting and engaging the heart, which is, or 
ought to be, the great object of the pulpit, is far from bear- 
ing a suitable proportion to the excellence of the matter. 
An English sermon, instead of being a persuasive, animat- 
ed oration, seldom rises beyond the strain of correct and 
dry reasoning. Whereas, in the sermons of Bossuet, Mas- 
si] Ion, Bourdaloue, and Flechier, among the French, we 
see a much higher species of eloquence aimed at, and, in a 
great measure, attained, than the British preachers have in 
view. 

In general, the characteristical difference between the 
state of eloquence in France and Great Britain, is, that the 
French have adopted higher ideas both of pleasing and 
persuading, by means of oratory, though sometimes in the 
execution they fail. In Great Britain, we have taken up 
eloquence on a lower key ; but in our execution, as was 
naturally to be expected, have been more correct. In 
France, the style of their orators is ornamented with bolder 
figures, and their discourse carried on with more amplifica- 
tion, more warmth of elevation. The composition is often 
very beautiful, but, sometimes, also, too diffuse, and defici- 
ent in that strength and cogency which render eloquence 
powerful. 

Several reasons may be given, why modern eloquence 
has been so limited and humble in its efforts. I am of opin- 
ion, that this change must, in part, be ascribed to that cor- 
rect method of thinking which has been so much studied in 
modern times. It can hardly be doubted, that, in many 
efforts of mere genius, the ancient Greeks and Romans ex- 
celled us ; but, on the other hand, that in accuracy and 
closeness of reasoning on many subjects, we have some ad- 
vantage over them, ought, I think, to be admitted also. In 
proportion as the world has advanced, philosophy has made 
great progress. A certain strictness of good sense has, in 
this island particularly, been cultivated and introduced into 
every subject. Hence we are more on our guard against 



108 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

the flowers of elocution ; we are all on the watch ; we are 
jealous of being deceived by oratory. Our public speak- 
ers are obliged to be more reserved than the ancients in 
their attempts to elevate the imagination and warm the pas- 
sions ; and, by the influence of prevailing taste, their own 
genius is sobered and chastened, perhaps, in too great a de- 
gree. It is likely, too, I confess, that what we fondly as- 
cribe to our correctness and good sense, is owing, in a great 
measure, to our phlegm and natural coldness ; for the vi- 
vacity and sensibility of the Greeks and Romans, more 
especially the former, seem to have been much greater 
than ours, and to have given them a higher relish of all the 
beauties of oratory. 



*<§> 



^#^#\^/w'W«~- 



EXERCISE IN RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. 

EXPLANATION OF A SPEECH IN LIVY. 

Let us suppose the speech of Pacuvius to his son Perolla 
is given to a youth for a composition. Here follows the 
subject of it. 

The city of Capua was surrendered to Hannibal, by the 
intrigues of Pacuvius, notwithstanding all the opposition of 
Magius, who continued steady to the Romans, and who was 
united with Perolla, both in friendship and sentiments. The 
day upon which Hannibal entered the city was spent in re- 
joicing and feasting. Two brothers, who were the most 
considerable persons in the place, gave Hannibal a grand 
entertainment. None of the Capuans were admitted to it 
but Taurea and Pacuvius, and the latter, with great diffi- 
culty, obtained the same favour for his son Perolla, whose 
friendship with Magius was known to Hannibal, who was 
willing, however, to pardon him, upon the intercession of his 
father, for what had passed. After the feast was over, Pe- 
rolla led his father aside, and drawing a poinard from under 
his gown, told him the design he had formed to kill Han- 
nibal, and to seal the treaty made with the Romans with 
his blood. Upon this, Pacuvius was quite out of his senses, 
and endeavoured to divert his son from so fatal a resolution. 

A discourse in such circumstances must be very short, 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES, 109 

and consist of no more than thirty or thirty-five lines at 
most. 

The father must begin by endeavouring to find motives 
within himself to persuade and move his son. There occur 
three, which are natural enough. The first is drawn from 
the danger to which he exposes himself by attacking Han- 
nibal amidst his guards. The second relates to the father 
himself, who is resolved to stand between Hannibal and his 
son, and consequently receive the first wound. The third 
is brought from the most sacred obligations of religion, the 
faith of treaties, hospitality, and gratitude. 

The first step to be taken in the composition, is to find 
proofs and arguments, which in rhetoric is called invention, 
and of which it is the first and principal part. 

After we have found arguments, we deliberate about the 
order of ranging them, which requires, in so short a dis- 
course as this, that the arguments should grow more power- 
ful as the discourse goes on, and that such as are most effi- 
cacious should be applied in the conclusion. Religion, gene- 
rally speaking, is not that which most affects a young man 
of a character and disposition like him of whom we now 
speak ; we must therefore begin with it. His own interest, 
and the danger to which he would expose himself, affect him 
much more sensibly. That motive must hold the second 
place. The respect and tenderness for a father whom he 
must kill before he can come at Hannibal, surpass whatever 
else can be imagined ; which, for that reason, must con- 
clude the discourse. This ranging of the arguments is 
called disposition, in rhetoric, and is the second part of it. 

There remains elocution, which furnishes the expressions 
and turns, and which, by the variety and vivacity of the 
figures, contributes most to the beauty and strength of the 
discourse. 

Let us now see how Livy treats each part. 

The preamble, which holds the place of the exordium, is 
short, but lively and moving : 

I pray, my son, I conjure you, by all the ties which unite 
children to their parents, — I entreat, I beseech you, do not, be- 
fore the eyes of your father, commit a deed of such transcend- 
ent horror, and draw on yourself extremity of ruin. 

This confused disposition, I pray, my son, I conjure you, 
is very suitable to the concern and trouble of a distracted 
father. Those words, by all the ties which unite children to 
10 



110 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

iheir parents, include whatever is strongest and most tender. 
That proposition, do not, before the eyes of your father, com- 
mit a deed of such transcendent horror, and draw on yourself 
extremity of ruin, which represents the crime and fatal con- 
sequence of such a murder, is in a manner the whole speech 
abridged. He might have said only, What ! do you intend 
to kill Hannibal before my eyes! But what a difference is 
there between the one and the other ! 

First Motive, drawn from religion. This is subdivided 
into three others, which are little more than barely shown, 
but in a lively and eloquent manner, without a circumstance 
or word which does not carry its weight. 

1st. The faith of treaties confirmed by oaths and sacri- 
fices. 

2d. The sacred and inviolable laws of hospitality. 

3d. The authority of a father over a son. 

Few hours have passed away since we swore by all that we 
held sacred an inviolable friendship ; this hand, our oath 
scarce finished, this very hand shall we profane by arming it 
against Hannibal ? 

You rise from a feast over which the gods of hospitality 
have presided, from a table where you were seated with two of 
our fellow citizens, the only Campanians whom Hannibal had 
admitted ; —would you stain this sacred table with the blood of 
your host ? 

My paternal prayers obtained from Hannibal the pardon of 
my son ; — will my son refuse me the pardon of Hannibal ? 

Second Motive. — But let us have no regard for those 
things which are most sacred among men ; let us violate faith, 
religion, and piety ; let us perpetrate the most abominable 
deeds, provided our destruction be not infallibly annexed to 
our crime. 

This is no more than a transition ; but how finely is it 
embellished ! Wnat justness and elegance in the distribu- 
tion, which resumes in three words the three parts of the 
first motive ! Faith, for the treaty ; religion, for the hospi- 
tality ; piety, for the respect which a son owes to a father. 
Let us perpetrate the most abominable deeds, provided our de- 
struction be not infallibly annexed to our crime. This is a 
very beautiful thought, and leads us naturally from the first 
motive to the second. 

Do you alone pretend to attack Hannibal ! What will that 
numerous crowd, both of freemen and slaves, be doing ? What 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. Ill 

the eyes of all, intent on him alone ? Wliat so many hands ? 
Will they all he benumbed during such a mad attempt ? How 
will you be able to support only the looks of Hannibal, — those 
formidable looks, which whole armies cannot support, and 
which make the Romans themselves tremble ? 

What a multitude of thoughts, figures, and images ! and 
this only to declare, that Perolla could not attack Hannibal 
without exposing himself to inevitable death. How admir- 
able is the opposition between whole armies, which cannot 
bear the sight of Hannibal, the Roman people themselves, 
who tremble at his looks, and a weak private man ! 

Third Motive. — Besides, will you be hardy enough to 
strike me, when, should other assistance be wanting, I shall 
oppose my person to the danger in defence of HannibaVs ? 
Now, be assured, that if you strike and pierce him, it must be 
through my breast 

We must admire the simplicity and brevity of this last 
motive, as much as the vivacity of that which precedes it. 
A youth would be tempted to add some thoughts in this 
place, and to expatiate on. the passage : Can you imbrue 
your hands in the blood of your father ? — tear life from him 
from whom you received your own ? &c, &c. But so great 
a master as Livy is well apprised, that it suffices to hint 
such a motive, and that to amplify would only weaken it. 

Peroration. — Suffer yourself then, to be dissuaded here, 
rather than overpowered there. Let my prayers have as much 
weight with you as they had to-day with Hannibal in your be- 
half. 

Pacuvius had hitherto employed the most lively and mov- 
ing figures. Everything is full of spirit and fire ; no doubt 
but that his eyes, his countenance, and hands, were more 
eloquent than his tongue. But he is softened on a sudden : 
he assumes a more sedate tone, and concludes with entrea- 
ties, which, from a father, are more powerful than any ar- 
guments that can be brought. Accordingly, the son cannot 
hold out against his last attack. The tears, which began 
to fall down his cheeks, demonstrated his confusion. The 
kisses of a father, who embraced him tenderly a long time, 
and his repeated and urgent entreaties, brought him at last 
to compliance. 



112 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSmOBu 

HANNIBAL'S SPEECH TO SCIPIO 

AT THEIR INTERVIEW PRECEDING THE BATTJLE OF ZAMA. 

Argument. — Hannibal began by commending Scipio in a very 
artful manner. — He laid before him a very lively description of 
the disorders of war, and the ills it had brought both upon the 
conquerors and the conquered. — He exhorted Scipio not to be daz- 
zled with the splendour of his victories. — That though hitherto 
Scipio had been successful, he ought to apprehend the inconstancy 
of fortune. — -That, without going far for examples, he himself, 
who was now speaking to him, was a flagrant proof of it. — That 
Scipio was now what Hannibal had been. — That Scipio ought to 
make better use of the opportunity, than he had done himself, by 
making peace at a time when he was master of the conditions. — 
He declared that the Carthagenians could now resolve, since the 
gods would have it so, to confine themselves within the limits of 
Africa. 

He ended by saying that he, Hannibal, now asked for peace. 

SPEECH. 

Scipio, since fate has so ordained it, that I, who began 
the war, and who have been so often on the point of ending it 
by a complete conquest, should now come of my own mo- 
tion to ask a peace, I am glad that it is of you, Scipio, I 
have the fortune to ask it. Nor will this be among the least 
of your glories, that Hannibal, victorious over so many Ro- 
man generals, submitted at last to you. It were to be 
wished that our fathers and we had confined our ambition 
within the limits which nature seems to have prescribed to 
it — the shores of Africa and the shores of Italy. The gods 
did not give us that mind. On both sides we have been so 
eager after foreign possessions, as to put our own to the 
hazard of war. Rome and Carthage have had, each in her 
turn, the enemy at her gates. 

But since errors past may be more easily blamed than 
corrected, let it now be the work of you and me to put an 
end, if possible, to the obstinate contention. For my own 
part, my years, and the experience I have had of the insta- 
bility of fortune, incline me to leave nothing to her deter- 
mination which reason can decide. But much I fear, Sci- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 113 

pio, that your youth, your want of the like experience, your 
uninterrupted success, may render you averse to the 
thoughts of peace, He whom fortune has never failed, 
rarely reflects upon her inconstancy. Yet, without recur- 
ring to former examples, my own may perhaps suffice to 
teach you moderation. I am the same Hannibal who, after 
my victory at Gannse, became master of the greatest part 
of your country, and deliberated with myself what fate I 
should decree to Italy and Rome. And now, see the 
change ! Here, in Africa, I am come to treat with a Ro- 
man, for my own preservation and my country's. Such 
are the sports of fortune ; is she then to be trusted because 
she smiles ? An advantageous peace is preferable to the 
hope of victory. The one is in your own power, the other 
at the pleasure of the gods. Should you prove victorious, 
it will add little to your own glory or the glory of your 
country ; if vanquished, you lose in one hour all the honour 
and reputation you have been so many years acquiring. 

But what is my aim m all this ? That you should con- 
tent yourself with our cession of Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, 
and all islands between Italy and Africa. A peace, on 
these conditions, will, in my opinion, not only secure the fu- 
ture tranquillity of Carthage, but be sufficiently glorious for 
you and for the Roman name. And do not tell me, that 
some of our citizens dealt fraudulently with you in the late 
treaty ; it is I, Hannibal, that now ask a peace. I ask it, 
because I think it expedient for my country ; and thinking 
it expedient, I will inviolably maintain it. 



THE SAME SUBJECT. Livy. 

Since it has been so ordered by fate that I, who first com- 
menced hostilities against the Roman people, and have so 
often been on the point of making a conquest of them, 
should voluntarily come to sue for peace, I am glad that it 
is to you, Scipio, rather than to any other person, that I am 
to apply. On your part, too, among the many illustrious 
events of your life, it ought not to be reckoned the least 
glorious, that Hannibal, to whom the gods granted victory 
over so many Roman generals, has yielded to you ; and 
that you put an end to this war, which was first rendered 
remarkable by the calamities of your country, before it was 
10* 



114 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

so by those of ours. Here, also, we may observe the sport of 
fortune in the disposal of events, that, in the consulate of 
your father, I took up arms. He was the first Roman gen- 
eral with whom I engaged in battle, and to his son I now 
come unarmed to solicit peace. It were indeed above all 
things to be wished, that the gods had so disposed the minds 
of our fathers, that your countrymen had been contented 
with the dominion of Italy and ours with that of Africa ; 
for, even on our side, Sicily and Sardinia are not an ade-^ 
quate compensation for the loss of so many fleets, so many 
armies, so many excellent generals. But what is passed, how- 
ever it may be blamed, cannot be retrieved. Our attempts 
on the possessions of others have ended in our being neces- 
sitated to fight in defence of our own. Thus we not only 
brought war home to you in Italy, but to ourselves in Africa. 
You beheld the arms and ensigns of an enemy almost within 
your gates and on your walls ; and we now, from the ram- 
parts of Carthage, hear the din of a Roman camp. The 
event, therefore, for which we ought most earnestly to pray, 
and you to wish, above all things, now comes in view : you 
are negotiating a peace in the midst of a successful career. 
We who negotiate are the persons most interested in its es- 
tablishment, and whose stipulations, whatever they may be, 
will certainly be ratified by our respective states. We want 
nothing but a disposition not averse from pacific counsels. 
For my part, so much instruction have I received from age, 
returning now an old man to my country, which I left a 
boy, and also both from prosperity and adversity, that I wish 
to follow reason rather than fortune. But your early time 
of life and uninterrupted flow of prosperity, both apt to in- 
spire a degree of warmth ill suited to peaceful plans, excite 
in my mind very serious apprehensions. He whom fortune 
has never deceived, rarely considers the uncertainty of fu- 
ture events. What I was at Thrasymenus and Cannae, that 
you are at present. Appointed to command at an age 
scarcely fit for service, though your enterprise were of the 
boldest nature, you were ever successful. By avenging the 
death of your father and uncle, you acquired a distinguish- 
ed character for uncommon bravery and filial duty. You 
recovered Spain, which had been lost, and drove out of it four 
Carthagenian armies. On being elected consul, while others 
wanted spirit sufficient to defend Italy, you passed into Africa, 
and by there destroying two armies, by taking and burning 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES* H3 

two camps in one hour, by making a captive of Syphax, a 
most powerful king, and by seizing on so many of his 
cities, and so many of ours, you compelled me to relinquish 
the possession of Italy, which I had continued to hold for 
sixteen years. Perhaps your wishes tend rather to con* 
quest than to peace. I know the spirit of you Romans — 
that it ever aims at grand rather than useful objects. For- 
tune once shone on me with the same benign countenance. 
But if, along with prosperity, the gods would grant us a 
sound judgment, we should consider not only what had aU 
ready happened 5 but what may possibly happen hereafter* 
Although you should forget all other instances, I am a suffi- 
cient example of every kind of fortune. Me, whom you 
formerly saw pitching my camp between the Anio and your 
city, and on the point of scaling the walls of Rome, you 
now behold here under the walls of my native city, which 
is threatened with a siege ; deprived of my two brothers^ 
generals of consummate skill and valour ; deprecating, in 
behalf of my own city, those calamities by which formerly 
I struck terror into yours. The most exalted state of for- 
tune is ever the least to be relied on. A peace conclud- 
ed at a juncture wherein your affairs flourish, and ours are 
distressed, reflects splendour and dignity on you who grant 
it : to us who request it, it is rather necessary than honour- 
able. A certain peace is better and safer than a victory in 
expectation. The former is in your own disposal, the latter 
in that of the gods. Risk not, on the chance of one hour, 
the happy successes of so many years. When you consider 
your own strength, recollect, at the same time, the chances 
of war. Arms there will be on both sides ; but on both 
sides the bodies that contend will be but human. Events 
less correspond to men's expectations in war, than in any 
other case whatever. Even supposing that you should gain 
the victory in battle, the proportion of glory which you would 
thereby acquire, in addition to what you may now securely 
enjoy on granting peace, would be by no means commensu- 
rate to that which you must lose, should any misfortune hap- 
pen to you. The chance of but a single hour may destroy 
at once both the honours which you have attained and those 
for which you hope. In the adjusting of matters, every 
thing, Publius Scipio, will be in your own power : in the 
other case, you must abide by the pleasure of the gods. 
Formerly, Marcius Atilius, in this same land, would have 



1 16 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

been celebrated among the few most extraordinary exam* 
pies of bravery and success, bad he, when possessed of vie- 
lory, granted peace to the request of our fathers ; but by 
setting no bounds to his ambition, by laying no restraint 
on his passions, in proportion to the height of glory to 
Which he had attained, was his fall dishonourable. Cer- 
tainly, it is his right who grants peace, not his who sues 
for it, to prescribe the terms ; yet, perhaps, we might not 
be deemed altogether inadequate to the estimation of what 
degree of punishment should be inflicted on us. We are 
ready to give up to you the possession of all the places 
on account of which the war was begun : Sicily, Sardi- 
nia, Spain, with all. the islands that lie in any part of 
the sea between Africa and Italy. Let us Carthagen- 
ians, confined within the shores of Africa, behold you, 
since such is the will of the gods, extending your sove- 
reignty, both by land and sea, over foreign realms. I 
am far from denying that you have some reason to dis- 
trust the faith of the Carthagenians, on account of the 
insincerity which they showed in their solicitations, and 
in not waiting for the issue of the negotiation. Scipio, 
the security of a peace being observed depends much on 
the character of those who sue for it. Your senate, I 
hear, refused to grant it, partly from the consideration 
that the persons employed in the embassy were not suffi- 
ciently respectable. Hannibal sues for peace, who would 
not sue for it unless he thought it expedient, and who, 
on account of the same expediency which induces him 
to sue for it, will alsp maintain it. And as because the 
war was begun by me, I took effectual care, until the 
gods themselves declared against me, that my country- 
men should have no reason to complain of it, so I will 
exert my utmost endeavours to make them satisfied with 
a peace procured by any means. 



SCIPIO'S ANSWER TO HANNIBAL. 

Argument, — Scipio answered, that it was the hope of Han- 
nibal's return which emboldened the Carthagenians to break the 
truce. — That their present proposal was a proof of it.— That the 
Carthagenians should be punished for their perfidy. — He im- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 117 

puted all the evils of the two wars to the Carthagenians only, 
and to their injustice. 

He thanked Hannibal for his advice in regard to the uncertain- 
ty of human events. — But since Hannibal had been forced out 
of Italy, the situation of affairs was much altered. — He conclud- 
ed, by bidding him prepare for battle, unless he chose rather to 
accept of the conditions he had already offered, to which he made 
some addition, by way of punishment, for the breach of the 
truce. 



speech. — Livy. 

Hannibal, it was not unknown to me that their expecta- 
tion of your arrival was what urged the Carthagenians to 
violate the truce subsisting, and to break off the treaty of 
peace. Nor do you dissemble it ; as you deduct from the 
former conditions every particular, except those which are, 
for some time past, in our own power. But as you are so- 
licitous that your countrymen should understand how great a 
burden they are relieved from by your means, so it is my 
business to endeavour that they shall not now retract the 
concessions which they then agreed to make, and enjoy 
w T hat they then ceded, as a reward of their perfidy. Un- 
worthy of being allowed the same terms, you require addi- 
tional advantages in consequence of your treachery. 
Neither were our fathers the aggressors in the war of 
Sicily, nor were we in that of Spain. In the former case, 
the danger of their allies the Mamertines, in the latter, the 
destruction of Saguntum, armed us in the cause of justice 
and duty. That you were the aggressors, you yourself ac- 
knowledge ; and the gods bear witness to it, who directed 
the issue of the former war according to equity, and who 
are now directing, and will bring the present to the same 
issue. As to myself, I am sensible to the instability of hu- 
man affairs ; I am mindful of the power of fortune, and I 
know that all our undertakings are subject to a thousand 
casualties. But as, on the other hand, if you were retir- 
ing from Italy of your own accord, and, after embarking 
your troops, were come to solicit peace ; if in that case I 
refused to listen to you, I should acknowledge that I be- 
haved with pride and arrogance ; so, on the other hand, 
now that I have dragged you into Africa, in spite of every 



118 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

effort which you used to prevent it, T am not bound to show 
you any particular respect. If, therefore, in addition to 
the terms on which it was then intended to conclude a peace, 
(and with which you are acquainted,) a full compensation 
be proposed for having seized our ships and stores during 
the subsistence of a truce, and for the insult offered my am- 
bassadors, I shall then have matter to lay before my coun- 
cil. But if this also seem severe, prepare for war, since 
you must be insincere in proposing peace. 



ARGUMENTS. 



THE ARABIAN HORSE. 

You will say, that the most noble conquest that man has ever 
made, is that of the horse. 

You will describe a fine Arabian horse. — You will describe the 
qualities of that proud and fiery animal. — You will say that he 
shares the pleasures of men. — You will mention those pleasures. 

He is as docile as courageous. — He is a creature, which re- 
nounces his character and exists but through the will of his rider 
— and even dies in order better to obey. 

N. B. — This description requires a noble and animated style. 



THE EMIR OCTAIR TO LOUIS IX. 

ANSWER OF LOUIS. 

You will say that the Emir Octair, after having assassinated 
the Sultan Moadan, presented himself before Louis IX., then 
prisoner at Damietta, in Africa. 

Octair tells Louis IX. that he has seen him in battle, and that 
he-has admired his valour. — He comes to propose to him the Sar- 
acen throne. — The captive will become the king of his conquerors. 
— Louis will continue to adore Christ, and the Mussulmans Ma- 
homet. — He asks of Louis but a single favour — to arm him as a 
knight. 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 119 

Louis IX. answers, that a king of France and a good Christian 
never should listen to anything but the voice of honour and of re- 
ligion. — He cannot arm as knight a follower of Mahomet. — He 
prefers to die in chains, rather than to accept a diadem in a for- 
eign and an infidel land. 



THE DOG. 

You will say that the dog is the model, the true prototype, of 
friendship. — Each species is distinguished by a peculiar attribute. 

Describe the dog of the shepherd. — Mention some of his quali- 
ties. 

Describe the dog of Mount St. Bernard. — He gives assistance 
to the .travellers who lose their way. 

Describe the dog of Newfoundland. — He rushes into the waves, 
and brings back to the shore the shipwrecked. 

Describe the dog of Siberia, or Esquimaux dog. — They harness 
him to sleighs. — He serves to transport burthens immense dis- 
tances. 



FREDERICK THE GREAT TO HIS SOLDIERS. 

Before the battle of Rosbach, which led to the most celebrated 
of all the king of Prussia's victories, Frederick addressed his 
little army, not amounting to more than twenty-five thousand 
men. 

44 My brave soldiers," said he, " the hour is come in which all 
that is dear to us depends upon our swords — our enemies are nu- 
merous — but after our two great victories, the remembrance of 
our own actions is sufficient to inspire us with courage — I pro- 
mise you the most brilliant victory, if you follow my example. 

44 You know that there is no labor — no hunger — no cold — no 
watching — no danger, that I have not shared with you hitherto 
— you now see me ready to lay down my life with you and for 
you — all I ask, is the same pledge of fidelity and affection that I 
give — acquit yourselves like men — put your confidence in God, 
and you shall soon see my promises verified." • 



120 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

THE PEACOCK. 

You will say that the peacock is the most beautiful of all birds. 
■^You will describe its carriage, its walk, its plumage, and the 
moveable tuft of feathers which adorns its head. 1 — You will say- 
that its plumage calls to mind the freshness and the colouring of 
the most beautiful flowers, the brilliancy of diamonds, the tints 
of the rainbow, &c, &c. 

No bird is as proud of its beauty as the peacock. — It loves to 
display its beautiful plumage, which at every movement produces 
different shades. — But when the winter has deprived it of its or- 
naments, it hides itself until spring has repaired the loss. 

N. B. — The description of so beautiful a bird should be written 
with the most brilliant ornaments of poetical prose. 



THE EMPEROR TITUS TO SEXTUS. 

The Emperor Titus begins by recalling to the mind of Sextus 
the favours which he has loaded him with — He cannot believe 
that Sextus has conspired against him. 

He recalls to his memory the duties of a subject, a citizen, and 
a friend, all of which he has violated. — But the dependent has per- 
haps envied the lot of his protector. — Titus describes to him the 
troubles and the cares of the sovereign power. 

At last, reminding him of the services which he has rendered 
to Rome, he complains of the ingratitude of the people. 

The Emperor shows to Sextus the decree of the senate which 
condemns him (Sextus) to death.— ■" But it will be out of the 
power of my enemies to force Titus to avenge himself," &c, &c. 



BJETICA. 

Baetiea derives its name from the river Baetis, which flows 
through it. — This country recalls the golden age. — The winters 
are never severe there. — The heats of summer are not excessive. 
— The whole year is a beautiful spring and an agreeable autumn. 

The earth yields two harvests each year. — The roads are bor- 
dered with pomegranate and orange trees, always loaded with 
flowers or fruits. — The mountains are covered with herds. — 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 121 

Mines of gold and silver are enclosed in the bosom of some moun- 
tains. — These metals are useless. 

The inhabitants are either laborers or shepherds. — There are 
very few artisans. — Useless inventions and luxury are banished 
from that country. 

N. B. — The scholar must employ in this composition all the 
agreeable and pleasing ideas that his imagination presents. 



WASHINGTON DEPLORES THE EVILS OF THE 
WAR. 

Washington commences by a touching picture of the evils of 
the war. — Men have already so few days to live. — They have 
already so many other misfortunes. — They are brothers, and yet 
they do that which even savage beasts shrink from. 

What is the purpose of these wars ? — Glory, to enslave 
other nations. — Thus it happens that the vanity and the ambition 
of a king or a nation cause not only pillage and conflagration, 
but also the death of an immense number of men. — What glory 
is this 1 i 

He continues by saying that wars should not only be just, but 
necessary. 

He finishes by an apostrophe to the English government. — 
He reproaches it for the injustice and the barbarity of the war 
which the English have declared against America. — He exhorts 
his fellow-countrymen to union and endurance, and foretells the 
brilliant destiny which awaits them. 



DESCRIPTION OF AN ISLAND AND GROTTO. 

You will say that two travellers were shipwrecked on the 
coast of an unknown island. — You will describe this island. 

The travellers discover a grotto. — Their astonishment at the 
sight.— You will describe the grotto, situated on the declivity of a 
hill covered with evergreens. 

From the summit of the hill they discover the sea. — From the 
other side of the mountain a river is seen, which, dividing itself 
in several channels, forms small islands. — The ground is cover- 
ed with vines, trees and flowering shrubs, that seem to make th© 
.mountain resemble a vast garden. 
11 



122 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

The two strangers enter into the grotto. — You will describe the 
hospitable reception that they receive. 



LICINIA TO HER HUSBAND, CAIUS GRACCHUS. 
b. c. 121. 

Oh, my dear Cams, do not leave me to go to the Forum, in 
order to defend an ingrateful people. — Do not expose yourself to 
the murderers of your brother. — It is throwing away your life, 
without any advantage to the community. — Factions reign every- 
where. — Outrage or the sword is the only justice of the Senate. 

Had your brother fallen before the city of Numantia, the truce 
would have restored his body to us. — Now, perhaps, I shall have 
to go a suppliant to the Forum, or else to the river, in order to 
find your remains. — What confidence can we have in the laws, 
after the unpunished assassination of Tiberius ! 

She finishes by beseeching her husband, in the name of his 
children, not to go to the Forum. — The senators have resolved 
upon his death.— What will become of her — of his children — of 
the Roman people. — If Caius is murdered, the liberty of the Ro- 
man people will perish with him. 



THE ISLAND OF DESOLATION. 

This island justly bears the above name, for nature seems 
there to have united her worst features. — The sky is always co- 
vered with thick clouds. — Continual tempests and storms. — The 
mountains are covered with sombre forests. — The valleys are 
marshy and rilled with snakes and venomous insects. — The fruits 
never attain .their full maturity. 

The only inhabitants of this island are ferocious animals, birds 
of prey, snakes, &c. — Its only productions are poisonous plants. 

jV. B. — The scholar must make use in this composition of ideas 
which will convey the impression of terror that such an abode would 
naturally inspire. 



SPEECH OF MITHRIDATES TO HIS SOLDIERS. 

He represented to them, that there was no room for examining 
whether war or peace were to be preferred. — That their business 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 123 

was to fight and conquer. — That there could not be a more fa- 
vourable opportunity. — That Rome was torn in pieces by civil 
wars. — That the time had come for humbling those proud and 
rapacious republicans. — That the war his soldiers were now 
about to enter upon was highly different from that which they 
had sustained with so much valour. — That he should lead them 
into the most fruitful and temperate country of the world. — That 
Asia held the n r rae of Roman in abhorrence. — That they fol- 
lowed him, not so much to war, as to assured victory and certain 
spoils. 



THE STORM. 

Describe a miserable cabin at the foot of Mount Ben-Arthy, in 
Scotland. — Describe this mountain. — This cabin is occupied by 
an infirm widow, and her son six years of age. 

About the middle of a summer's night, while the child was ra 
a deep sleep, the signs of a storm appeared. — Describe the begin- 
ning of the storm. — The rain falls in torrents. — The noise of 
thunder is lengthened by the echoes of the mountain. — Describe 
the fears of the mother. — Her prayers and uneasiness at the bed- 
side of her son. — The thunder is heard afar off. — It again draws 
near. — A powerful clap is heard. — The mother falls on her knees. 

The day breaks.— The clouds disappear. — Describe the rising 
sun. — The child awakes and calls his mother. — She does not an- 
swer. — He goes to kiss her, — She is dead. — Describe the grief of 
the child. 



SPEECH OF A GOOD KING TO HIS SON. 

He begins by telling him that the private virtue of persons is 
much better supported than his own, by the mediocrity of their 
condition — by the misfortunes to which they are frequently ex- 
posed — by their distance from pleasures and luxury — and par- 
ticularly, by the liberty which their friends and relations have of 
giving them advice. 

He adds, that a king who would make himself capable of go- 
verning well, ought to avoid an idle and inactive life. — Should 
form his council of the most able and experienced persons in his 
kingdom. — Should endeavour to make himself far superior to 



124 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

others by his merit and wisdom. — Should acquire the love of his 
subjects. — Should look upon himself as their common father. 



THE ISLAND OF CHRISTINA. 

A vessel enters a magnificent bay. — The passengers perceive 
in the distance the verdant forests which surround the island of 
Christina. — The inhabitants collect upon the shore. — The pas- 
sengers disembark. — They are received hospitably. — The inhabi- 
tants conduct them to a village situated at the bottom of a hill, 
by the side of which flows a rivulet. — The cabins are covered 
with leaves, but they are clean and commodious.— The doors 
have no other fastening than a garland of flowers. — The lance 
and the bow are suspended on the wall. — The inhabitants are a 
people fonder of the chase than of war. 

Loved and respected by their neighbours, the inhabitants of the 
island of Christina know not the science of war. 

iV. B. — Simplicity and softness must he the predominating 
qualities of this composition. 



SPEECH OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V., 

ON RESIGNING HIS KINGDOMS. A. D. 1555. 

The President of the Council of Flanders having explain- 
ed the intentions of his Emperor in calling this meeting of 
the States, Charles rose from his seat, and, leaning on the 
shoulder of the Prince of Orange, because he was unable 
to stand without support, he addressed himself to the audi- 
ence. 

He recounted with dignity, but without ostentation, all the 
great things which he had performed. — He observed that from 
the seventeenth year of his age, he had dedicated all his thoughts 
and attention to public objects. — He had never shunned labour. — 
Now his growing infirmities admonished him to retire. — That, 
instead of a sovereign worn out by disease, he gave them one in 
the prime of life, and accustomed already to govern. — That if, 
during the course of his long administration, he had either neg- 
lected or injured any of his subjects, he now implored their for- 
giveness. — That, for his part, he should ever retain a grateful 
sense of their fidelity. — He finished by saying that his last pray- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 125 

ers to Almighty God would pour forth his ardent wishes for their 
welfare. 



ERUPTION OF A VOLCANO. 

You will say that during one of the warmest days of July, the 
sky was calm and the heat suffocating, 

Suddenly a hollow noise is heard. — The noise increases and 
soon becomes a prolonged roaring. — The earth trembles. — The 
buildings totter. — Immense pieces of rocks are loosened from the 
mountains. — Flames and thick smoke rise from the earth. — An 
entire city is swallowed up. — An immense gulph, covered with 
a sort of calcined matter, marks -the site of a flourishing city. 



ALEXANDER'S SPEECH TO HIS GENERALS, 

WHO ADVISED HIM TO GO BACK TO MACEDONIA. 

I cannot enough thank you for the strong proofs you have given 
me of your zeal and affection. — But in this case we differ very 
much in opinion. — You wish to enjoy my presence long ; and 
even, if it were possible, forever. — I compute the length of my 
existence, not by years, but by glory. 

The country we are now in reproaches me that a woman has 
done greater things than I have done. — It is Semiramis, I mean. 
— How many nations did she conquer ! — How shameful it is, 
that I should not yet have attained to so exalted a pitch of glory I 
— Do but second my ardour, and I shall soon surpass her. — I take 
the rest upon myself, and I will be answerable to you for all the 
events of the war. 



A FAMINE AT SEA. 

You will say that a ship coming from China, after having met 
with frightful tempests, had exhausted nearly all the provisions. 
— The stores decrease, and at last famine succeeds to scarcity. — 
You will show how much more terrible famine at sea is than up- 
on the land. — Man is abandoned by all nature. — Even hope pre- 
pares to leave him. — The sailors are without strength or courage. 
— Now they implore the mercy of heaven, and now they seem 
to doubt that there is a Divine Providence. 
11* 



126 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

You will contrast these frightful details with the joy which ani- 
mates the passengers at the sight of two vessels. — The captain 
makes signals of distress. — The two ships approach and furnish 
a quantity of provisions. 

You will praise the prudence of the captain, who, fearing that 
the passengers would suffer from the excesses which such an 
abundance of provisions would inevitably produce, takes measures 
to restrain them. 



LIDIASMON'S SPEECH. 

Lidiasmon, in an exordium very suitable to the conjuncture, 
exhorted the Thebans, his countrymen, to union and concord. 

In the second part of his speech, he said, that if the Thebans 
were divided, the war would neither be warmer nor more dan- 
gerous between the Athenians and Spartans, than between the 
Thebans themselves against each other. — That it was, therefore, 
absolutely necessary to make their union amongst themselves 
their sole care and application. — That to know which of the two 
alliances was to be preferred, was now the most important ques- 
tion. — That the amity of the Athenians, experienced for ten years, 
seemed preferable to that of the Spartans, upon which they could 
not much rely for the present, and with which they had as little 
reason to be satisfied with regard to the past. 

In the Jast part of his speech he said, that if the Thebans de- 
clared themselves against the Athenians, the Thebans would ex- 
perience the war immediately ; whereas, if they declared them- 
selves against the Spartans, the danger was more remote. 



DESCRIPTION OF A WATER-SPOUT, 

AND ITS EFFECTS. 

You will describe a ship sailing calmly over the ocean.— Sud- 
denly a strong breeze springs up, and soon a tornado arises.-^— 
The waves dash against the ship. — The passengers are astonish- 
ed. — But their astonishment changes to consternation when they 
behold a sort of cloud in the form of a column, which springs up 
from the sea and rises into the air. 

The captain of the vessel recognises it to be a water-spout. — 
He endeavours to avoid it. — He gives his orders to the sailors. — 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 127 

But the wind seizes the vessel, and draws it under the column of 
water, where it is swallowed up by the waves. 

N. B. — The scholar, in order to write a good description of a 
water-spout, should carefully describe its origin, caused by a tor* 
nado, and the manner in which the water-spout increases itself, by 
drawing up the water from the sea. 



SPEECH OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. TO HIS 

S0N, ON RESIGNING HIS SCEPTRE. — A. D. 1555. 

My Son : If I had left you, by my death, this inheritance, 
some regard would have been due to my memory on that ac- 
count. — But when I voluntarily resign, with these, however, I 
dispense. — I shall consider your concern for the welfare of your 
subjects as the most acceptable testimony of your gratitude to me. 

It is in your power to prove that you are worthy of the confi- 
dence which I repose in you. — Preserve an inviolable regard for 
religion. — Let the laws of your country be sacred in your eyes.— 
If the time shall ever come, when you shall wish to enjoy the 
tranquillity of a private life, may you resign your sceptre to your 
son with as much satisfaction as I give up mine to you. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY 
SEPULCHRE. 

You will say that the architecture of the Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre is worthy of its design, as far as the genius of man 
could permit. 

Founded by the Empress Helena, mother of the Emperor 
Constantine, it has been successively embellished by all the 
kings of Jerusalem. — The vestibule is guarded by Turks, who 
are the possessors of this monument, and preserve it with venera- 
tion. — Two sanctuaries lead to the tomb. — In the first, is the 
stone where the angels were seated when the holy women pre- 
sented themselves, after the Resurrection. 

The second sanctuary encloses the holy sepulchre — lamps 
which are suspended there — perfumes which burn there— impres- 
sions which are produced. 

A visit to the holy sepulchre is an event which should exercise 
a great influence upon the heart of a Christian. 



128 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

SPEECH OF DIODORUS TO THE ATHENIANS, 

The people of Mitylen had rebelled against the Atheni- 
ans ; as soon as the Athenians had got possession of that 
city, the affair of the Mitylenians was debated at Athens. 
The Athenians, in the first transports of their rage, resolved 
to put all the citizens to death, and to make all the women 
and children slaves. 

Diodorus, an Athenian orator, contradicts that resolution : 

After describing, in a tender and pathetic manner, tlie deplor- 
able condition of the Mitylenians, whose minds, he said, must 
necessarily be on the rack, he represented to the Athenians, 
that the fame of their clemency had always reflected the highest 
honour on them.— He observed, that the citizens of Mitylen had 
been drawn, involuntarily, into the rebellion. — A proof of "which 
was, their surrendering the city to them the instant it was in their 
power to do so. — He observed, further, that supposing the Mity- 
lenians in general were guilty, the decree would be unjust, in 
punishing the innocent with the guilty. — That the best way to 
put a stop to the evil, would be to leave room for repentance. 

His opinion therefore, was, that the Athenians should examine, 
very deliberately, the cause of those factious Mitylenians who 
had been brought to Athens, and pardon all the rest. 



THE DESERTS OF ARABIA PETREA. 

Yon will represent a traveller lost in the deserts of Arabia 
Petrea. — Everywhere he finds nothing but a parched and barren 
country — naked mountains — an eternal solitude more terrible than 
that of the forests. — The traveller is there entirely isolated. — He 
would vainly endeavour to pass over these arid plains, inhabited 
but by animals, if Providence had not furnished him with an ani- 
mal capable of supporting hunger and thirst for several days. 

After many weeks of travel, he arrives in Arabia Felix. 

You will describe the contrast of the two countries. 



ALEXANDER TO HIS MACEDONIAN SOLDIERS, 

WHO REFUSED TO FOLLOW HIM FARTHER IN INDIA. 

I am not ignorant, O soldiers ! that the Indians have published 
several things, purposely to terrify us. — Your bravery conquered 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 129 

them. — Do you repent that you have followed me thus far ?— 
Endeavours are used to intimidate you by the idea of innumer- 
able armies. — Are they more numerous than those of Darius ? — 
Besides the Scythians, the Bactrians are with us, and fight for our 
glory. — I, however, do not depend on those barbarians. — It is in you 
alone that I put confidence. — Not only your glory, but even our 
safety, is at stake. — Should we now retreat, it will be supposed 
that we fly before our enemies. — It is in my power to make use 
of authority, and yet I employ entreaties only. — But I will ad- 
vance still farther. — The Scythians, the Bactrians, will follow me. 
— Return then to your country, and boast that you have aban- 
doned your king. 



PICTURE OF A SAILOR'S LIFE. 

You will give an idea of the sentiments which are experienced 
on the sea. 

You will describe the life of a sailor. — You will say that his 
language, his tastes, his appearance, and his manners show the 
element on which he lives. 

Sailors love their ship. — An old sailor resembles an old labour- 
er : their occupations, although different, are guided by the same 
astronomical revolutions. 

The sailor knows not where his ashes will rest. — An island 
or the ocean may serve him for a tomb. 



SPARTACUS TO HIS COMPANIONS. 

Spartacus exhorts his compannions to break their chains, and 
free themselves from the miserable servitude of public gladiators. 

He commences thus : Brave companions, whom an unfortunate 
fate has united, in order that we may serve as a show to a cruel 
populace. — The Romans, who compel us to massacre one anoth- 
er in the circus, brand us as barbarians ! 

He exhorts his companions to free themselves from this horri- 
ble slavery. — If we are obliged to pour out our blood, will it not 
be better to do it in the cause of liberty ? 

He endeavours to convince them that success is all but certain. 
— An immense number of slaves who groan under Roman op- 



130 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

pression, will join themselves to us. — Let the whole of Italy be 
the theatre of our exploits. — Let us not leave to our children 
slavery for their only heritage. 



AN ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. 

You will describe the commencement of an eclipse of the sun. 
— The star of the day becomes obscured. — Soon a profound 
darkness succeeds to light. — Man experiences a sensation of ter- 
ror which he cannot overcome. — The frightened animals remain 
immoveable. — They are astonished to behold the hour of repose. 
— They fill the air with their cries, and assemble together. — The 
birds which the darkness has surprised in the air, know not where 
to direct their flight. 

You will describe the confusion which everywhere prevails. 
— The dove dashes against the vulture, and frightens it, &c. 

A few minutes after, nature returns to its former state. — You 
will describe this progressive return. 

JV. B. — The idea of the dove and the vulture should supply the 
scholar with several other contrasts. 



THE DELEGATES OF THE STATES GENERAL OF 

BURGUNDY TO FRANCIS 1ST. A. D. 1526. 

When Francis 1st had mounted the throne of France, Burgundy 
took the oath of fidelity. — She will never betray her king when he 
Is in adversity. 

Burgundy would support, with less grief, the captivity of her 
king, by remembering his noble words. — She learns with conster- 
nation the unfortunate fate that threatens her. — But a King of 
France has no right to alienate any one of the provinces of his 
kingdom. 

Burgundy offers to Francis 1st her warriors and her treasure. — 
These sentiments should merit some regard on the part of her 
sovereign. 

Besides, where will she find a prince so worthy of her love ? 

If Francis 1st persists in his project of delivering up Burgundy 
to Charles V., the Burgundians know how to defend themselves 
until death. 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 131 

ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS. 

A traveller relates his visit to Vesuvius. 

He crosses orchards, and arrives at an immense bed of lava, 
which a hundred years ago terrified Naples, and even now threat- 
ens it. — He is astonished to find the soil so productive. 

The traveller having climbed some frightful rocks, stops. — He 
sees before him the smoke of the volcano — behind him, the sun 
setting over the Mount Pausilippa, Naples, and the sea. — The 
moon rises above the island of Caprea. 

Arrival at the crater.— rHe describes the contrast of the ravages 
of the volcano with the pleasures of Naples. — He describes the 
noise, the flames, the ashes, the eruptions of Vesuvius. 

Admiration of the traveller on quitting Vesuvius. 



A CARTHAGENIAN SENATOR AGAINST THE 

CUSTOM OF SACRIFICING HUMAN VICTIMS. 480 B. C 

He has always condemned the bloody honours which the Car- 
thagenians render to their deities. — Now that the abolition of this 
frightful custom is exacted by the Roman conqueror, as the first 
condition of a necessary peace, he performs the duty of a good 
citizen, in making reason and humanity engaged in that which 
the force of arms had imposed. 

How is it, in sacrificing men, that the Carthagenians think to 
turn away those scourges which menace men ? — And what vic- 
tims do they sacrifice ? — Children, the hope of our country. 

Can the Carthagenians think that the gods delight in bloody 
sacrifices? — Religion should never be opposed to morality and 
humanity. — The last human sacrifice did not hinder the Roman 
army from cutting to pieces the Carthagenians. 

If the victory of the Romans should do away with these bar- 
barous sacrifices, he will give thanks to the gods for the victory 
of the Romans and the defeat of his countrymen. 



THE RISING OF THE SUN. 

The rising of the sun is the most beautiful sight that an ad- 
mirer of nature can enjoy. — Seated on the summit of a hill, he 
feels the freshness of the air, the perfume of the flowers, &c, &c. 



132 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Already day mingles with the shades of night. — The stars 
lose their hrightness. — A brilliant point darts like lightning. — A 
part of the heavens is soon lighted up. — Man recognises his abode. 
— The birds in chorus chant the rising of the sun. — Soon the light 
of the star of day becomes purer, and its heat dries up the dew, 
&c, &c. 

N. jB. — The scholar should pay great attention to the admirable 
gradation which nature presents to us in this magnificent scene. 



AN ATHENIAN ORATOR DEFENDS MILTIADES. 
489 b. c. 

The orator is astonished at the audacity of the accusers and 
the inconstancy of the Athenians. — The crime of Miltiades is 
improbable. — It is refuted by his life. 

Here the orator reminds the people of the principal exploits of 
his hero. — Miltiades has filled the highest stations, both military 
and civil. — He has always despised riches, and has contented 
himself with glory. — Can any one suppose that, in his old age, 
he would dishonour himself by betraying his country for a paltry 
reward ? 

Miltiades has not betrayed his country. — An immense army 
of Persians approached. — Miltiades had but a handful of sol- 
diers. — He was himself wounded. — He retired ; he did not fly. 

If Miltiades had betrayed his country, his army would have 
accused him. — But the whole of his army is indignant at seeing 
a few perturbators accusing Miltiades of treason. 



THE EVENING AND NIGHT OF A SUMMER'S DAY. 

Describe the sinking of the sun. — Twilight appears. — Night 
comes on. — The sky is covered with stars. — The moon sends 
down her soft light. — Soon all noise is hushed. — All animated 
beings sink into repose. — The nightingale sings. — You will ex- 
plain the reason why this proud bird sings at night rather than in 
the day-time. 

It is midnight. — The moon shines forth in all her splendour. — 
You will describe the feelings that a lover of nature experiences 
at the sight. — It is sadness mingled with pleasure ; a sort of me- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 133 

lancholy, the delights of which are often more agreeable than 
those of joy. 

jV. B. — This description requires all the ornaments of poetical 
prose* 



bYRUS TO THE GREEK SOLDIERS, HIS ALLIES. 

O Greeks ! it is not from any want of Barbarian troops that I 
make use of you as auxiliaries — because I look on you as supe- 
rior to them. — Show yourselves, therefore, worthy of that liberty 
you enjoy. 

But that you may understand what kind of combat you are 
going to engage in, I will explain it to you. — The Persians are 
very numerous. — But for the rest, I am almost ashamed to think 
w r hat kind of men you will find my country produces. — You are 
soldiers ; behave yourselves with bravery. — If any of you desire 
to return home — I will take care to send them back to their coun- 
try. — But I am confident that my behaviour will engage all of 
you to follow my fortune. 



GENERAL VIEW OF JERUSALEM. 

You will narrate, as if you had made a voyage to the Holy 
Land, the impressions which that consecrated country produced 
upon you. 

You will describe the view of Jerusalem taken at sun-rise, and 
from a lofty point. — The narrative should commence something 
like this: u After having climbed a high mountain, the hori- 
zon suddenly expanded, and exposed to view the whole space 
which extends between the most^ distant cliffs of Judea and the 
lofty chains of Arabian mountains." 

You will describe the morning light. — The vapours spread 
over the valley, causing it to resemble a sea. — The sun com- 
mences to gild the cupolas of the city. — In the distance, behind 
the buildings, is the Mount of Olives; one part of which is in 
the shade, and the other lighted by the rising sun. 

N. B. — This description should be written in a poetical style, 
and religious sentiments should hold a predominant place. 
12 



134 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

AUBUSSON TO THE KNIGHTS WHO WISHED TO 

GIVE THEMSELVES UP TO THE TURKS. A. D. 1480. 

If some think themselves not safe enough in Rhodes, they 
are at liberty to abandon their brothers in arms ; but if they 
wish to remain, every idea of surrender must be abandoned. 

He reminds them of the oath which binds them, and to which 
they have been so faithful. — He reminds them of the terror that 
their name inspires to the enemies of Christianity. — Rhodes is 
the bulwark of Christianity. — Every knight should rather bury 
himself under the ruins of the city, than give it up to the Turks. 

He adds, that it would be cowardice, when the enemy had 
Commenced to lose courage, to betray the noble efforts which «they 
have made, up to that time. 

He finishes by exhorting them to wash out, in the blood of the 
infidels, the stain which they had put upon their glory by a mo- 
ment of error. 



THE STORM AND THE FINE WEATHER. 

Before you describe the storm you must mention what gene- 
tally precedes it. — The atmosphere is loaded with vapours. — 
The light of the sun is pale and faint. — The waves dash against 
the shore. — All nature seems to mourn. 
. Describe the storm. 

You must next describe that which accompanies it. — The 
flashes of lightning dart across the horizon. — No other voice is 
heard.— Thick clouds hurry across the sky with extraordinary ra- 
pidity. — Rain falls in torrents. — The winds are let loose. 

You will describe the gradual cessation of the storm. — The 
zephyrs drive away the clouds, and the light of the sun enlivens 
the saddened mortals. 

N. B< — The scholar must follow as closely as possible the track 
which we have laid out, it is the most natural ; there is a sort of 
gradation to be preserved throughout. 



SPEECH OF PETER THE HERMIT, AT THE 

COUNCIL OF CLERMONT.- — A. D. 1093. 

He excuses himself for having dared to speak among such a 






DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 135 

crowd of illustrious personages — "but, without doubt, God has 
permitted that the noblest enterprise should be preached by the 
humblest and the most unworthy of his servants." 

He relates all that he has seen in Palestine. — The profanation 
of the tomb of Jesus Christ. — The cruelty of the Turks. — The 
outrages and the sufferings which the Christians undergo. 

He apostrophizes all the Christians of Europe. — He asks 
whether they can remain in peace while their brothers are op- 
pressed by so many evils. 

All who can fight must take arms. 

He finishes by prophecying glorious victories. — The deliver- 
ance of the Saviour's tomb. — The conquest of Asia. — The ad- 
vancement of Christianity. 



SPECTACLE OF NATURE FOR AN INHABITANT 
OF THE COUNTRY. 

You will say that, in the most desert places, nature has for a 
tranquil mind charms that art can never equal. 

You will describe the sun rising over the tops of the moun- 
tains : the melting of the snow, the odour of the flowers, the ef- 
fects of the dew, the breezes, the singing of the birds, &c, &c. 

You will explain what the smoke arising from the rustic huts 
denotes. — You will describe the departure of the wood-cutters, of 
the labourers, and of the flocks. — Finally, you w T ill describe the 
awakening of all nature. 

You will finish this description by putting the question to your- 
self, whether an Atheist could resist this spectacle and deny the 
existence of a Supreme Being. 

N, B. — The scholar should employ in this description all the 
poetical expressions that his imagination can furnish him with. 



COLUMBUS TO HIS REBELLIOUS SAILORS. 

I might employ force in order to make you submit. — I prefer 
to employ reason in order to persuade you. 

It is not my ambition which guides me towards these unknown 
lands. — The design which I have formed is an inspiration from 
God himself, — These people are idolaters.-*-The sun lights not 



136 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION 

the West in vain. — Soon you will find another land and other 
men. 

But if you refuse to obey your commander, your chief will re- 
fuse to conduct you back to Spain. — Who will be able to afford 
you the means of returning to your country 1 — I alone know how 
to direct our course over these unknown seas. — I would prefer to 
see you perishing with hunger, and even perish myself with you, 
than to return with you ignominiously to Spain. 

Oh ! how magnificent have been my dreams ! — It depends 
upon you to realize the splendid triumph which I have just de- 
scribed to you. 

And now, if there are any who refuse to obey their admiral, let 
them choose a ship and return to Spain. — I abandon them to 
their fate. — As for those who remain faithful, the favourable 
breeze which God sends us, and that miraculous star which 
even now appears in the West, will conduct them in three days 
to the end of their voyage. 



THE SWISS DELEGATES TO CHARLES THE RASH, 

DUKE OF BURGUNDY. — A. D. 1476. 

The Swiss delegates are astonished that Charles has declared 
war against the Swiss. — They have not provoked him. — Shut up 
in their mountains, they have nothing to do with princes. 

If Charles seeks for conquest, let him seek other lands to con- 
quer. — Their snow-covered mountains should not tempt his am- 
bition. — All their riches equal not in value the bridles of his 
horses and the spurs of his cavaliers. 

The Swiss offer to repair the injuries which Charles complains 
of. — They will renounce, to please him, the alliance of all the 
princes, even that of Louis XT, King of France. 

But when they have honourably satisfied him, let Charles de- 
sire nothing more. — Before attacking the Swiss, let him think of 
the humiliated house of Austria. — Of the victories of the French, 
as disastrous for France as though they had been defeats. 

SPEECH.— By a French pupil 

Prince, on dit que tu veux nous faire la guerre ; toi- 
meme, tu leves des soldats, tu rassembles des armees et or- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 137 

donnes des marches : a. voir tes travaux immenses, on croi- 
rait que tu vas envahir le monde ; et c'est nous seuls que 
tu menaces, nous, les plus pauvres, nous, les plus justes, 
nous, les plus braves de tous les peuples ! Parle, t'avons- 
nous offense? avons-nous insulte ta puissance, souleve tes 
provinces, outrage tes allies ? Grace au ciel qui nous a se- 
pares du reste du monde, nous sommes etrangers aux rois, 
aux cours et a leurs intrigues. Renfermes dans nos mon- 
tagnes, nous laissons l'Europe se dechirer et se detruire ; 
nous ignorions presque ton nom, quand tu meditais notre 
perte. Quoi ! parce qu'un marchand de notre pays prend 
querelle avec les gens de ton vassal, est-ce la peine de lever 
tant de lances, d'armer tant de brillants chevaliers, et d'e- 
puiser tes richesses en vains appareils ? Quoi ! c'est la le 
noble motif qui t'entraine, Peelatante vengeance que tu 
poursuis ! quelques toisons de brebis, quelques laines de nos 
troupeaux, voila l'objet des combats que tu prepares, le noble 
prix du vainqueur ! Le plus riche prince de l'Europe attaque 
la plus pauvre des nations pour la plus vile et la plus mepri- 
sable cause. Non, prince, nous ne te faisons pas cette in- 
jure. Nous le voyons, tu cedes au desir des conquetes ; 
tu crois qu'il est beau d'etre appele le Terrible ; tu veux 
combattre et vaincre a tout prix. 

Mais quel est ce peuple que tu attaques, cette contree 
que tu menaces ? y cherches-tu des richesses ? Grand 
Dieu ! aupres de tes tresors et de tes pompes, quelles ri- 
chesses que des troupeaux et des chaumieres ! La massue 
liereditaire, un arc, une fleche pour percer le vautour dans 
les airs et le tyran sur son rocher, voila l'ornement de nos 
cabanes, la dot des epouses, le patrimoine des enfants ! 
Yiens nous les arracher, si tu l'oses ; le reste n'a rien qui 
puisse enflammer ton ambition, et toute l'Helvetie ensemble 
ne vaut pas les brides de tes chevaux ni les eperons de tes 
cavaliers. 

Si tu as besoin d'exercer au dehors cette ardeur de con- 
quetes qui te devore, assez d'autres contrees s'orfrent a toi ; 
ce n'est pas a nous a t'indiquer ce qu'il faut faire, ni a te 
designer ta proie. Mais ouvre les yeux, vois l'opulence 
de tant de royaumes ; compare leur ciel avec le notre, 
leurs plaines avec nos monts, leurs cites, leurs palais 
avec nos bourgs et nos hameaux, et choisis plus sage- 
ment par ambition meme. Mais si tu ne veux que des 
perils, viens en Helvetie, Charles ; si tu ne cherches 
12* 



138 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

dans tes rivaux que du courage, viens encore en Helvetic 
Des perils et du courage, c'est tout ce que nous avons a 
t'ofFrir et a t'opposer. La, tu trouveras a chaque pas des 
rochers prets a t'ecraser, des lacs prets a t'engloutir, des 
precipices ouverts sous les pas de tes chevaux, des neiges 
perfides, des glaces meurtrieres ; la, des gorges profondes 
ou ton armee s'enfoncera sans retour, des defiles etroits 
qu'a defaut d'hommes un seul rocher, une chaine tendue 
suffirait pour garder ; et, derriere ces retranchements de 
la nature, des hommes qu'elle a formes, hommes simples et 
libres comme elle, posterite de Guillaume Tell, esperance 
de la patrie. Quand un esclave de Pempereur Albert osa 
nous proposer la honte et l'infamie, une fleche lancee au 
cceur du perfide Gessler Petendit dans la poudre, et tous 
les echos retentirent du cri de la vengeance. Charles, la 
meme fleche est tiree contre quiconque Pimiterait ; tous 
les arcs sont tendus, tous les glaives aiguises contre lui ; 
qu'il tremble ! il tombera a son tour, et les lacs de nos 
montagnes seront aussi son tombeau. 

Toutefois, prince, nous aimons encore mieux la paix que 
les victoires, et nous sommes justes en meme temps que 
braves : si tu te crois offense, nous sommes prets a tout 
reparer. Faut-il, pour te satisfaire, renoncer a. nos allies ? 
pour te prouver notre fidelite, devons-nous nous donner a. 
toi seul et negliger tous les autres ? Faut-il rompre nos 
liaisons avec la France ? Ces sacrifices nous seront doux, 
s'ils t'apaisent. La honte a nos yeux n'est pas dans Pex- 
piation d'une faute, elle est dans la faute seule. Peut-etre 
un pareil langage t'etonne dans la bouche d'une nation qui 
se dit brave et invincible ; peut-etre le prendras-tu pour de 
la peur et de la lachete. Detrompe-toi ; nous ne craignons 
qu'une seule chose, c'est de violer la justice. Ah ! ce 
serait bien plutot a. toi de craindre : combien doit-elle etre 
redoutable dans les combats, une nation si scrupuleuse 
dans la paix ! combien son equitable moderation doit-elle 
se changer en Constance genereuse, en resistance inebran- 
lable ! combien sont terribles les hommes dont la con- 
science double le courage, et qui se sentent armes pour la 
plus sainte des causes contre le plus impie des agresseurs ! 

Charles, nous t'ofTrons justice et reparation ; mais 
n'attends rien de plus. La ou l'honneur cesse, notre 
moderation se tait. C'est a toi de voir si tu t'obstines a la 
guerre ; mais une fois commencee, tu 1'auras terrible, 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 139 

sanglante, immortelle ; tu l'auras telle qu'un peuple libre 
la fait aux tyrans, telle que l'eprouverent autrefois Albert 
vaincu, et dernierement les Francais vainqueurs ; dans Les 
succes comme dans les revers cette guerre sera toujours 
fatale, toujours desastreuse pour toi. Charles, ce n'est 
pas dans l'enfance d'une nation regeneree qu'on peut 
esperer de l'asservir ; alors naissent, alors eclatent et 
I'heroisme et l'independance et les miracles de la liberte. 



the same subject. — By a French pupil. 

Haut et puissant seigneur, les Suisses ne craignent pas 
tes armes, mais ils respectent tes droits, et l'amour de la 
justice leur inspire aujourd'hui une resolution que ni la 
terreur de ton nom, ni la force de ton bras, ne sauraient 
leur imposer ; ils te demandent la paix. 

Le fer et la flamme ont desole quelques-unes de tes pro- 
vinces, et tu pretends, dit-on, nous punir de ces desordres. 
Nous pourrions te repondre qu'ils sont bien plutot l'ouvrage 
d'un souverain aujourd'hui ton allie, que notre propre 
ouvrage ; mais les Suisses redoutent jusqu'au soupcon de 
perfidie, et seuls, ils s'engagent a reparer des torts qu'ils 
ne furent pas seuls a commettre. 

Ce n'est point assez : en reparant noblement nos torts, 
nous ne sommes que justes ; nous voulons maintenant te 
donner des preuves de notre estime et de notre amitie. La 
France et l'Autriche pourraient dans la suite des temps te 
causer quelque ombrage ; nous abandonnons de plein gre 
des rois qui nous ont trahis les premiers, et nous renoncons 
pour jamais a leur alliance. Cette alliance, ces armes qui 
ne serviront plus leur politique ambitieuse, nous te les 
offrons. Accepte la foi d'un peuple libre qui s'est toujours 
montre plus grand que scs revers, et qui ne flechit le genou 
que devant Dieu ; afFermis par nos secours le duche de 
Bourgogne, trop voisin du trone de Louis XI. Le cceur 
des Suisses est a l'epreuve du fer et de l'or. 

La confederation helvetique a lieu de croire que cette 
alliance te sert et t'honore autant qu'alliance peut le faire ; 
ce n'est pas un mediocre present dans le temps ou nous 
vivons, que la foi d'une nation constante dans son amitie, 
comme elle est constante dans sa haine, et que l'histoire de 
quatre siecles est encore a montrer infidele. 



140 NEW ZETETlC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Si tu n'accepte pas d'aussi genereuses propositions et la 
foi que les Swisses sont prets a te jurer, les peuples pense- 
ront que le soin de ta gloire et Putilite de ton pays n'entrent 
pour rien dans les motifs de l'agression dont tu nous me- 
naces. Comment se ferait-il que la Bourgogne gagnat plus 
aux chances de la guerre qu'aux bienfaits d'une paix re- 
paratrice et a ses avantages assures ? Des ruines de nos 
chaumieres rebatiras-tu tes cites ? et lorsque Pincendie, 
Pendant partout ses fureurs, aura reduit nos biens a neant, 
tes sujets en seront-ils plus riches ? Quant aux honneurs 
et au respect dus a ton nom, nous les consacrons en ce mo- 
ment avec trop d'eclat, pour que tu puisses nous accuser 
de les meconnaitre. Avant la journee de Granson, tu pou- 
vais te meprendre sur nos dispositions secretes ; aucun acte 
public ne les avait trahies : aujourd'hui, l'offre de notre 
alliance ne te laisse plus le droit de te croire offense. 
Certes il serait etrange que notre hommage t'honorat moms 
que notre indifference. 

Charles, tu entreprends une guerre qui peut-etre te rap- 
portera moins de gloire que tu ne t'en promets, et qui sans 
aucun doute doit plutot aggraver les malheurs de la Bour- 
gogne que les soulager. Cette guerre, ou tu precipites 
avec temerite toutes tes forces et toutes tes richesses, 
crois-tu la faire par justice? Un prince juste ecouterait 
avant de condamner, et ton empressement a te prendre au 
seul pretexte que les Suisses t J aient jamais presente, a bien 
trahi l'impatience de combats et la soif de conquetes qui 
tourmentent ton ame. 

Eh bien ! porte done le fer et la flamme dans nos paisi- 
bles vallees ! Va disputer a la nature les sommets de la 
Rhetie et les glaciers du Saint- Gothard. O prince ! La 
France, l'Autriche,. le Milanais sont done des ennemis bien 
redoutables a tes yeux, puisque tu ne trouves, dans tes 
desirs ambitieux, que notre pauvre Helvetie a conquerir ? 
Mais Charles, sais-tu qu'au milieu de nos rochers la vic- 
toire ne saurait te rendre ce qu'elle te coutera t Des 
monts couverts de neige, une terre sterile, point de cha- 
teaux, de pauvres chaumieres, en tous lieux les dangers, la 
richesse nulle part, voila l'Helvetie. Crois-tu qu'une 
pareille conquete soit digne du sang de tes chevaliers ? 
Epuiseras-tu ton or pour acheter des troupeaux ? Aban- 
donneras-tu a la merci des combats la gloire de ton nom et 
l'honneur de ta couronne pour nous ravir nos biens ? Ras- 



DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 141 

sembles, ils ne valent pas les brides de tes chevaux ni les 
eperons de tes cavaliers. De telles richesses seraient pour 
toi les tristes fruits des succes les plus eclatants. Mais, 
ces prosperites, qui te les promet ? As-tu la mesure 
de nos forces ? Tu te vantes d'avoir soumis quelques 
rebelles ; mais une liberte hereditaire est un complot plus 
difficile a etouffer. Gand et Liege a peine defendus sont 
tombes sous ta domination : la Suisse manque-t-elle de 
soldats ? II est bien audacieux a un due de Bourgogne 
de se croire assure d'une victoire qu'Albert et Rodolphe 
n'osaient pas meme esperer. 

Considere, il en est temps encore, cette Helvetie que dues 
et souverains n'ont jamais abord^e sans crainte ni sans 
regrets. Citadelle immense, defend ue de tous cotes par 
des monts escarpes ou par des eaux profondes, elle peut 
bien ofFrir la place d'un tombeau, mais non l'espace d'un 
champ de bataille ; et si tu es si impatient de conquerir 
des lacs et des precipices, abandonne aux pieds des Alpes 
ta cavalerie devenue inutile ; renvoie dans leurs domaines 
cette foule de princes qui te suivaient au pillage ; et, pour 
commencer ta victoire, renonce a l'elite de tes guerriers : 
ils te nuiraient, loin de te servir. Les fatigues et la faim 
auront en peu de jours couvert les rochers de tes chevaux 
blesses ou mourants, et les nobles de Bourgogne, reduits a 
l'etat de fantassins, iront grossir les rangs de tes archers et 
leur inspirer le decouragement dont ils seront atteints eux- 
memes ; une partie de ton armee combattra pour la defense 
de Pautre. 

Tu ne peux retenir cette cavalerie, et elle fait ta seule 
force, sans te livrer a de plus grands malheurs. Te voila 
done reduit a nous opposer, a nous Suisses et citoyens, un 
ramas de soldats sans honneur, attires de vingt pays divers 
par l'espoir de Tor, ardents a piller, paresseux a combattre, 
soldats que nous avons vaincus a Naefels, ou gens qui ne 
valent pas mieux. Pour aneantir une semblable armee, il 
suffit d'un combat. Alors, plus de salut. Soutenu de la 
France et de l'Autriche, la victoire s'echappe de tes mains : 
que vas-tu devenir, prive de ces puissants auxiliaires ? 
Car tu dois te mefier d'une alliance imposee par la force, 
subie par la perfidie. Cette alliance, crois-nous, est une 
guerre deguisee. Ton honneur, ta couronne, ta vie, de- 
pendent d'un caprice du sort. S'il t'abandonne, tout fuit 
avec lui, et tu restes seul sous les revers. L'Autriche 



142 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

t'envoyait des secours, ils reculeront. Louis XI a ouvert 
ses Etats a ton armee victorieuse, il les referme a tes 
debris. 

Les Suisses ont appris a connaitre ce Louis XI, el ce 
n'est pas un de nos moindres avantages, que d'etre debar- 
rasses de son alliance : diviser les peuples est sa constante 
occupation ; trahir est sa politique. Ah ! brandissons de 
joie nos dards et nos lances ! Louis XI est l'allie de notre 
ennemi ! Louis XI combat pour nous ! 

Charles, les Suisses t'ont demande la paix, les Suisses ont 
pour eux la justice, et ne te doivent plus rien. Ils sai- 
sissent aujourd'hui la fleche et le glaive ; les accents belli- 
queux du cor d'Unterwald, repetes d'echos en echos, ont 
appele un peuple de freres a la defense de la grande 
famille ; les Suisses se levent comme un seul homme ; 
depuis les monts du Jura jusqu'aux frontier es des Grisons, 
des bords du Rhin aux limites du Milanais, partout ils 

s'arment Quand la patrie les demande ils ne 

se- font pas attend re. 

Leur union leur assure la victoire : ils ont affaire a des 
guerriers, etrangers de mceurs et de volontes, divises par 
Pinteret. Cette armee court au pillage : les Suisses de- 
fendent leur vie, ils defendent leurs enfants, ils defendent' 
leur liberie. Pense-tu que la passion des richesses ait plus 
de force dans le cceur de Phomme, que Pamour de la 
liberte ? Non ; des hommes prets a mourir plutot que de 
courber la tete, sont invincibles. Les soldats mercenaires 
de l'Europe conjuree fondraient sur eux sans les etonner ; 
et ton armee compterait dix fbis plus de guerriers, qu'elle 
ne triompherait pas d'une poignee de braves Suisses animes 
au combat par le spectacle de leur famille et de leur 
patrie en danger. Nous parlons ici du courage et nulle- 
ment des avantages sans nombre que la guerre des mon- 
tagnes presente aux heros de notre patrie. Si tu reflechis 
un instant, due de Bourgogne, que tu conduis ton armee au 
milieu de rochers et de forets sauvages, dont la connais- 
sance est reservee a tes ennemis ; si tu songes qu'ils en 
ouvrent et en referment les barrieres a leur gre, tu fremiras 
toi-meme de ta temerite. Tels sont les obstacles) qui 
t'arreteront. Pour flatter ton espoir, tu comptes bien folle- 
ment sur tes perfides allies : pour nous, nous avons dans 
le ciel un defenseur plus puissant. Les Suisses n'ont 
jamais commence le combat sans flechir le genou devant 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 143 

Dieu, d'ou la victoire descend : ils l'implorent aujourd'hui 
et Dieu les entend. II etend sa main secourable sur les 
monts de l'Helvetie ; il punit un temeraire agresseur ; il 
donne aux Suisses la victoire, comme il la leur a donnee a 
Nsefels. 

A Prattelen, a Naefels, nous etions un contre dix. Le 
meme rapport s'est trouve dans les cadavres. La France 
se repentit de ses succes ; l'Autriche vaincue abjura ses 
esperances de conquetes. 

Charles, souviens-toi de Prattelen et de Nsefels. 

COMPOSITIONS FRANgAISES, 

BY FRENCH PUPILS. 



N. B. — Our object in offering the following French compositions is 
to inspire in the pupils who read them a generous emulation, and 
stimulate them to equal, if not surpass, the efforts of others here pre- 
sented. 



LES HOMMES APRES LE DELUGE.— 2348 ans avant j.-c. 

Argument. — Dieu venait d'accomplir ses vengeances sur le 
genre humain, et de retrancher de la terre une race criminelle. — 
TJne farhille a trouve grace devant lui. — Seuls, au milieu de 
Funivers ravage, les pieux descendants de Seth promenent avec 
effroi leurs regards autour d'eux. 

Vous direz leurs tristes reflexions a Faspect de cette terre 
autrefois si riante, et maintenant nue et sauvage. — Ils se jettent 
avec confiance dans les bras de la Providence, et lui elevent un 
autel sur la montagne ou Farche s'est arretee. 

L'arc-en-ciel apparait dans les cieux comme gage d'une al- 
liance eternelle. 



NARRATION. 

Les vengeances de PEternel etaient accomplies: les 
cataractes des cieux se fermerent, et la puissante volonte 



144 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

du Seigneur arreta les torrents suspendus sur des tetes 
coupables ; la terre fut montree au firmament, et le firma- 
ment a la terre. Cependant le pere des hommes n'|ivait 
pas voulu aneantir l'ouvrage de ses mains : les justes 
trouverent grace devant lui, et il jeta un oeil de clemence 
sur le vertueux Noe ; le patriarche et sa famille furent 
sauves de la commune destruction. L'arche miraculeuse, 
a laquelle etait confie l'espoir d'une race nouvelle et d'une 
generation meilleure, venait enfin de se fixer sur les mon- 
tagnes de l'Armenie. Quel petit nombre d'hommes, 6 mon 
Dieu ! avait range ses volontes sous le joug de tes augustes 
lois ! 

Noe sortit le premier suivi de sa famille, et il fit sortir 
apres lui tous les etres vivants que l'arche renfermait. A 
l'aspect de cette nature morne et silencieuse, le saint vieil- 
lard ne put retenir ses larmes : il pleurait les crimes des 
humains et les vengeances de Dieu. L'immensite de 
l'horizon ne presentait a l'ceil effraye que des debris et de 
la fange ; un ciel pale et nebuleux paraissait encore mena- 
cer la terre ; et dans le lointain, les rayons d'un soleil 
livide repandaient a travers les nuages une sinistre clarte. 
Tous garderent le silence, dans les premiers instants d'une 
surprise ineffable. lis songeaient que la race des hommes 
avait disparu, qu'ils etaient seuls dans la nature ; que 
seuls ils pouvaient faire entendre, au sein de ^immense 
solitude, les louanges de ce Dieu vengeur dont ils croyaient 
voir l'esprit planant sur la surface de la terre. Ils reste- 
rent quelque temps ensevelis dans ces graves meditations : 
seulement on entendait par intervalles, du sommet de 
1' Ararat, les rugissements des lions et des ours qui sa- 
luaient la creation nouvelle, et qui, repetes par les echos des 
montagnes voisines, se prolongeaient le long des rives de 
PEuphrate. 

Le plus jeune des fils de Sem adressant enfin la parole a 
Noe : " O mon pere ! lui dit-il, quelles sont ces steriles 
montagnes, ces plaines incultes et desertes, ce ciel nebuleux 
et menacant ? Avons-nous quitte pour toujours nos riantes 
vallees et le beau ciel de notre fertile patrie V 9 

" Mon fils, repondit le patriarche, apprends a respecter 
les decrets de TEternel : Dieu ne nous a point arraches a 
la fureur des eaux pour nous laisser perir dans le desert : 
sa bonte reserve un avenir heureux et d'honorables destins 
a ceux qui n'ont point partage Porgueil des descendants de 






COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 145 

Cain. Hatons-nous de rendre de justes actions de grace a 
ce Dieu de misericorde, qui n'a pas regarde nos crimes au 
jour de ses vengeances. O Dieu ! quel mortel pourrait 
soutenir tes regards ? quel mortel serait trouve juste devant 
toi?" 

Ainsi parla le vieillard ; et sur-le-champ il eleva de ses 
mains un autel au Seigneur. Les pompes du monde ne 
pr£siderent pas au sacrifice ; mais les patriarches des pre- 
miers siecles, les anges et 1'Eternel lui-meme regardaient 
cet homme vertueux qui, sur les debris du monde detruit, 
offrait au ciel les hommages du monde renaissant. 

Apres avoir acheve cette pieuse ceremonie, le vieillard 
et sa famille entourerent 1'autel, et Noe, debout au milieu 
d'eux, adressa au Seigneur cet hymne que les anges repe- 
terent : " O Dieu ! que ta colere est terrible ! que ta 
clemence est grande ! Ou sont les impies qui pretendaient 
s'egaler au Createur ? Helas ! une ingrate famille a 
repudie son pere et son roi. Des femmes, des enfants, un 
faible vieillard, voila done les seuls adorateurs du Dieu 
vivant ! Graces te soient rendues, 6 mon Dieu ! qui nous 
as choisis pour perpetuer sur la terre l'ouvrage de tes 
mains ! Quelle bouche aurait desormais celebre par 
des louanges etemelles ton eternelle grandeur ? C'est 
aux vivants a chanter le Seigneur ; les enfers et la mort 
ne le beniront pas. O Dieu ! puisse-je ne te voir ja- 
mais arme contre ma race! Si tu prevois qu'elle doive 
sanctifier la terre et rejouir mon cceur par l'exemple de ses 
vertus, prolonge les annees de ton serviteur, et ne me rap- 
peile dans le sein des patriarches qu'apres m'avoir donne 
la consolation de voir les hommes reconcilies avec le Crea- 
teur. Mais s'ils doivent abandonner un jour le chemin que 
tu leur as trace, si une coupable indifference ou une fausse 
sagesse leur fait oublier tes bienfaits et leur devoir, frappe 
un malheureux pere ; et, si j'avais trouve grace a tes yeux, 
fais que j'expire avant d'avoir trop vecu." 

Telle fut la priere de Noe : ses enfants et ses petits-fils 
vinrent successivement remercier le Tres-Haut et lui 
adresser leurs hommages. lis lui offraient, non pas ces 
presents que la corruption des mceurs a portes dans le 
sanctuaire, mais un cceur pur, un ardent amour de la vertu, 
et cette innocence dont les premiers ages du monde nous 
ont laisse l'unique modele. 

Cependant le vieillard etait tombe dans une profonde 
13 



146 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

reverie. Appuye sur les debris d'un chene antique ren- 
verse par les torrents, les yeux eleves au ciel, il semblait 
eontempler un spectacle extraordinaire ; jamais sa figure 
ne fut plus majestueuse et plus animee. Ses enfants re- 
gardaient avec etonnement 1 'expression de son visage, 
frappe par les rayons du soleil couchant : quelquefois une 
sombre tristesse venait obscurcir son front, qu'epanouissait 
bientot une sainte et tranquille allegresse. Sans doute 
1'Eternel lui revelait en ce moment, comme plus tard a 
Jacob, les hautes destinees de sa race, les vertus et les 
crimes, les succes et les malheurs d 'Israel. 

Tout a coup une celeste melodie se fit entendre dans les 
airs ; une clarte soudaine illumina l'orient. Une invisible 
main etendit dans l'espace jusqu'a l'occident un arc im- 
mense rayonnant des plus vives couleurs. En meme 
temps, une voix inconnue retentit du baut des cieux, et 
porta jusqu'aux oreilles de Noe ces mysterieuses paroles : 

" Ma colere est apaisee, et la terre est reconciliee avec 
moi : les eaux du deluge ne la couvriront plus. Quand le 
ciel sera obscurci de nuages menacants, mon arc, gage 
certain de ma clemence, apparaitra dans les airs, et je me 
rappellerai notre commune alliance. Surtout, 6 mortels ! 
songez toujours a respecter la divinite. Je n'ai rien mis 
au-dessus de la religion : elle seule ne suit pas les hommes 
au tombeau ; le reste meurt, elle ne meurt jamais. Ra- 
menez sur ce nouvel univers les vertus des premiers ages, 
et meritez les bienfaits que ma misericorde reserve a votre 
heureuse posterite. Un fertile rejeton s'eleve de la tige de 
Jesse, ses branches nourries par les fecondes rosees du ciel 
doivent un jour ombrager toute la terre." 

Noe se prosterna de nouveau devant le Seigneur qui lui 
annoncait sa volonte. Quel etait ce bienfait dont 1'Eternel 
avait parle, et que le patriarche enviait, sans le connaitre, 
a ses descendants 1 Mais Dieu ne voulait pas reveler 
clairement la naissance du Saint qu'il promettait. II fut 
donne au seul Abraham de eontempler le jour du Messie et 
la splendeur de la Jerusalem nouvelle. 



JEREMIE SUR LES RUINES DE JERUSALEM. 

605 ANS AVANT J.-C. 

Argument, — Sous le regne de Sedecias, roi de Juda, Jerusa- 
lem tomba sous les coups de Timplacable Nabuchodonosor. 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 147 

Regrets de Zorobabel, traine en captivite avec ceux que le 
glaive a epargnes. — II s'arrete un instant au milieu des ruines 
de sa patrie, et, dans un morne silence, il contemple avec affroi 
ces muets debris. 

Tout a coup un vieiliard se presence a lui. — C'est Jeremie, 
Telu du Seigneur, qui deplorait en ces lieux le neant des gran- 
deurs humaines. — II fait asseoir Zorobabel a ses cotes sur les 
d6bris d'une colonne. — II lui montre ces ruines amoncelees. — II 
lui rappelle la gloire, les crimes et le chatiment de Jerusalem. 

Puis, dans un enthousiasme prophetique, il predit a Israel la 
fin de sa captivite et le retabiissement du temple 



NARRATION. 

La gloire d^Israel n'etait plus : le roi d'Assyrie, Fimpla- 
cable Nabuchodonosor, avait emporte d'assaut Jerusalem, 
ravage le temple et precipite du trone dans un cachot Pirn- 
prudent Sedecias. Sion, abandonnee de son Dieu, avait vu 
ses entrailles maternelles dechirees, ses guerriers massacres 
sous ses murs, ses filles, ses vieillards egorges dans ses 
places publiques, et l'ennemi trainant en servitude dans une 
terre etrangere tous ceux que le glaive avait epargnes. 

Parmi les nombreuses victimes arrachees a leur patrie, 
se trouvait un jeune Israelite, nourri dans la loi du Sei- 
gneur, et dont Fame innocente et pure etait demeuree fidele 
au Dieu d'Abraham. Zorobabel etait son nom ; saisi par 
une troupe impitoyable, il n'a pu dire un eternel adieu a 
son humble heritage, ni au tombeau de ses peres. Oh ! s'il 
pouvait les revoir encore, s'il pouvait encore une fois verser 
des larmes sur leurs debris, les chaines du fier Assyrien 
lui paraitraient plus legeres ! Avec moins de regrets il irait 
porter sa douleur aux champs de Babylone ; et, sur les 
bords de PEuphrate, ces tendres souvenirs charmeraient du 
moins les ennuis de son esclavage ! II saisit un instant 
favorable, s'echappe, et precipite ses pas tremblants vers sa 
chere Jerusalem. Helas ! son coeur a peine a la recon- 
naitre ! Jerusalem n'est plus qu'un triste amas de ruines ! 
II contemple avec un saint efFroi ces augustes restes, tout 
pleins des David et des Josaphat. Seul, dans un morne 
silence, il touche, il baise avec respect ces marbres que n'a 
pu devorer la fiamme, et, promenant ses yeux remplis de 



148 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

larmes autour de ces muets debris, les mains levees au ciel : 
" Heureux, s'ecrie-t-il, trois fois heureux le brave, mort 
sous nos remparts en combattant pour sa patrie ! II n'a 
pas vu tomber Sion, il n'a pas vu sa douce epouse, son 
vieux pere, ses jeunes enfants outrages par d'insolents vain- 
queurs. Maintenant il repose au sein de Jacob, et nous, 
malheureux, condamnes a l'exil, nous quittons ces cam- 
pagnes si cheres, temoins des jeux de notre enfance ! 
Riant Carmel, majestueux Liban, je n'irai plus sur vos 
cimes verdoyantes, cueillir les fleurs du printemps, et me 
meler aux danses des vierges de Sion. O monts de Galaad, 
je n'irai plus dans vos bois poursuivre le daim et le cerf 
agile. Adieu, rives du Jourdain ; adieu torrent de Cedron 
que tant de fois j'ai traverse. Dormez en paix, cendres de 
mes peres ; tombeaux sacres, je vous salue pour la der- 
niere fois ; ma main ne vous ornera plus de guirlandes ; 
mon luth, ma voix ne feront plus entendre les chants du 
bonheur : mon luth, ma voix ne savent plus que gemir." 

II avait dit, quand un vieillard se presente tout a coup a 
ses yeux : ses cheveux blanchis par Tage, sa longue barbe, 
la tristesse majestueuse empreinte sur son visage frappent 
le jeune Israelite. II s'approche, et reconnait Jeremie; 
Jeremie, ce digne elu du Seigneur, Jeremie qui, dans ces 
jours de deuil et de mort, sauve par la main de 1'Eternel, 
deplorait en ces lieux solitaires le neant des grandeurs 
humaines. A la vue de cette longue chevelure qui flotte 
sur les epaules du timide Zorobabel, a la vue de ce front 
ou brille l'aimable eclat de l'innocence, le vieillard sourit, 
le prend par la main, le fait asseoir a ses cotes sur les debris 
d'une colonne, et lui adresse ces paroles : " O mon fils, tu 
verras jSetrir ces couleurs si brillantes ; ta beaute se fanera 
comme les roses du Carmel ! Les frimas de Thiver rem- 
placent la riante parure du printemps ; les cites, les em- 
pires s'ecroulent : rien n'est stable sous le soleil. Tout 
passe ; Dieu seul ne passe jamais. Qu'a-t-elle fait de sa 
puissance, cette altiere Jerusalem ? Hier tu l'as vue si 
riche, si florissante, si superbe de ses remparts : elle sem- 
blait la reine des cites. Sa gloire a passe comme l'eclair 
rapide qui apparait aux plaines de l'air, quand les feux 
brdlants du soleil dessechent les moissons de Moab. Helas ! 
la cite cherie a viole sa foi, et l'epoux a repudie l'epouse. 
La colere du Tout-Puissant s'est repandue sur une terre 
abreuvee du sang de ses prophetes. En vain je portai mes 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 149 

larmes au pied du trone : " O Sedecias, ai-je dit, tremble ! 
une reprobation fatale est suspendue sur ta tete ; apaise, 
apaise, crois-moi, le Dieu des armees." Sedecias mepri- 
sa mes larmes ; ivre de ses grandeurs, il osa prodiguer un 
coupable encens a des divinites sourdes et impuissantes, et 
le Dieu fort s'est venge. Lui-meme a retranche son peu- 
ple. Apres avoir arrete deux fois les belliqueux enfants 
d'Assur, il les a pousses lui-meme sur Jerusalem : alors, 
trone, grandeur, puissance, tout est tombe. Qu'est devenu 
ce grand arbre dont les branches orgueilleuses montaient 
jusqu'au ciel ? La foudre est partie d'en haut, et l'arbre 
superbe est renverse. Regarde ces ruines, 6 mon fils, 
voila ce qui reste de Jerusalem ! Interroge cette poussiere: 
la s'elevait ce temple magnifique, ouvrage de Salomon et 
fruit d'un siecle de travail, edifie par cent mille bras, et 
qu'une heure vient d'aneantir. Ici je reconnais la place 
ou fut naguere le palais de Sedecias ; lis sur ces colonnes 
abattues les titres pompeux que lui prodiguait la flatterie. 
Dieu ! a cette place que tu foules, en ce lieu meme, 6 mon 
fils, le dernier roi d'Israel a vu ses enfants, Punique espoir 
de sa vieillesse et de Sion, egorges sous ses yeux que bien- 
tot lui arracha une troupe forcenee ! Jour afireux ! Jour 
efiroyable ! Le Jourdain roule dans ses ondes les casques, 
les dards et les corps mutiles ! Partout du sang, partout 
des cadavres ! Dieu du ciel, voila tes vengeances ¥* 

A ces mots, Pauguste vieillard s'arrete, interrompu par 
ses sanglots. Le jeune Israelite mele ses larmes aux 
siennes, et tous deux soulagent leur douleur en l'epanchant 
dans le sein 1'un de l'autre. Apres quelques instants de 
silence, Thomme de Dieu se leve, et d'un ton plus solennel: 
Ecoute, 6 mon fils : ces ruines parlent plus haut que la 
voix des prophetes, que Sion n'a point comprise. Garde 
les commandements de l'Eternel, ton Dieu ; Jerusalem 
souillee du sang de ses enfants, en proie aux flammas devo- 
vorantes, dispersee comme la cendre au vent, Penseignent 
a quel prix on peut trahir le Seigneur ! N'oublie jamais 
ces enseignements redoutables ; qu'ils demeurent graves 
au plus profond de ton ame : un jour Dieu peut retablir ce 
qu'il a renverse ! un jour il peut te choisir toi-meme pour 
accomplir l'ceuvre de sa misericorde. Oui, l'Espnt saint 
parle a mon coeur : le livre de l'avenir se deroule devant 
moi. Ciel ! ou vont des bords de l'Euphrate ces enfants 
de gloire, la truelle d'une main et le glaive de l'autre ? 
13* 



150 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Quel est ce guerrier qui les conduit ? Vents, portez-les sur 
vos ailes ! Nations, prosternez-vous, aclorez les Saints 
d'Israel. Sors de tes ruines, temple du Seigneur ! Minis- 
tres du Dieu vivant, preparez vos cantiques. Rejouis-toi, 
fille de Sion ! que tes yeux brillent de l'eclat d'un beau 
jour : ton Dieu te rend ses bontes, mais tremble de le me- 
connaltre encore I* 9 

II dit, et le jeune Israelite attendri tombe a ses genoux, 
lui demande sa benediction, et rejoint ses compagnons d'in- 
fortune en meditant les paroles du saint prophete, qui se 
perd au milieu des ruines de Jerusalem. 



ENTREVUE D'ARMINIUS ET DE FLAVIUS, 

9 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Argument. — Flavius, frere d'Arminius, etait reste fidele aux 
Romains, apres la revoke des Germains : il avait servi dans 
Tarmee romaine, et avait merile plusieurs recompenses mili- 
taires. Dans la campagne de Germanicus contre Arminius, 
celui-ci demanda une entrevue a son frere. Arminius adressa 
ee discours a Flavius. 

D'abord il lui reproche de preferer la servitude des sujets de 
Pempire romain a Pindependance de ses compatriotes. — II trace 
un tableau rapide des moeurs sauvages, mais pures des Germains, 
qu'il oppose aux moeurs corrompues de Rome. 

II repond ensuite aux raisons que Flavius pourrait tirer de 
rinfraction des traites, en rappelant avec cbaleur les vexations 
exercees en Germanie par les proconsuls romains et les malheurs 
dans lesquels ils avaient plonge la patrie. — Quelies recompenses 
ont valu a Flavius ses services contre les Germains ?— Des cou- 
ronnes, des titres d'honneur, ou plutot des marques honteuses de 
sa servitude. 

Arminius parlera avec orgueil de la defaite de Varus et des 
Romains, ainsi que des succes obtenus depuis contre ce fameux 
Germanicus.-^-Succes glorieux qui sont le gage de beaucoup 
d'autres. 

Mais que les Romains soient vainqueurs, Flavius voudra-t-il 
etre l'instrument de la perte de ses compatriotes ? 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 151 



NARRATION ET DISCOURS. 

Dans une des guerres de Germanie, Arminius s'approcha 
du camp romain, et demanda une entrevue avec Cesar. 
On lui repondit que Cesar etait absent. " Qu'on m'envoie 
au moins mon frere," dit-il. Un officier romain se pre- 
sente ; il porte a la main la verge du centurion, un glaive 
pend a son cote, sur son iront un casque etincelle, Peclat 
de son armure annonce l'opulence et la distinction : c'est 
Flavius, le frere du heros. " Flavius, j'avais peine a te 
reconnaitre sous cet habit romain : a te voir on te prendrait 
pour un tribun ou pour un consul, et sans doute tu ne 
desesperes pas de le devenir. Pour assouvir ton ambition, 
il te iaut maintenant des haches et des faisceaux, comme a 
nos guerriers une belle framee ou un cheval de bataille. 
Ah ! malheureux Flavius, te voila done devenu Romain ! 
Et quelle ardeur te poussait ainsi hors de nos forets, dans 
le camp de nos oppressaurs ? quel vertige t'entrainait loin 
de ta patrie, de tes amis et de ta vieille mere ? la soif de 
Tor peut-etre ? La liberte se paie-t-elle avec de For, et 
n'avais-tu pas, comme les autres, des troupeaux et ta part 
de butin ? Parle ; voulais-tu commander ? Etait-il plus 
beau a tes yeux d'etre chez les Romains centurion ou chef 
de cohorte, qu'homme libre parmi nous ? Je le vois, Se- 
geste t'aura seduit avec son or et ses promesses ; il t'aura 
vante les douceurs de la puissance, les charmes de la domi- 
nation. " On t'obeira, t'a4-il dit ; on flechira sous tes 
ordres ; les soldats trembleront devant le centurion Fla- 
vius." Insense ! t'a-t-il dit aussi : " Le centurion Flavius 
tremblera devant un tribun superbe ; s'il a cent esclaves, 
il aura plus de cent maitres ; s'il donne des fers, il en 
recevra V 9 Eh bien ! plutot ne commande a personne, et 
que personne ne te commande. Ecoute, il en est temps 
encore : au milieu de ces honneurs qu'on te rend, de ce 
faste qui t'assiege, de ces aigles que tu adores et que je 
meprise, ne ressens-tu jamais de l'ennui ? Quand tu sacri- 
fies au Jupiter du Capitole, ne songes-tu point au Jupiter de 
Germanie? Ne regrettes-tu point nos dieux, nos forets, 
nos combats, les louanges de nos femmes, les hymnes de nos 
bardes ? Au souvenir de ce que tu as trahi, ne verses-tu 
jamais des pleurs de repentir et d'amertume ? 

" Jamais, dit Flavius, parce que je n'ai rien trahi." Et il 
allegua l'infraction des traites, la foi juree aux Romains 



152 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

par Arminius, et violee par lui ; lui Flavius, il avait pre- 
fere a l'amour de la patrie l'amour de la justice. 

"Belle justice! s'ecrie Arminius, belle justice, que de 
deserter tout ce qu'il y a de plus sacre, dieux, patrie, 
famille. Rome, dis-tu, nous traite de perfides et de rebelles ; 
c'est du Capitole qu'est parti cet arret, c'est au senat qu'on 
1'a dicte, et tu peux le croire ! J'ai honte et pitie de ton 
erreur. T'ont-ils aussi conte, ces hommes justes, les vexa- 
tions de leurs proconsuls, les tyrannies de leurs preteurs ? 
Comme on nous arrachait nos femmes, nos troupeaux, nos 
armes ? comme on trainait nos guerriers a 1'amphitheatre, 
pour s'egorger aux yeux des Romains ? Les laches ! ils 
m'ont ravi mon epouse et 1 'enfant qu'elle porte dans son 
sein ; et le fils d'Arminius verra le jour dans une cite ro- 
maine, ou il puisera avec le lait la haine de son pere et de 
sa nation ; et je ne pourrai venger mon injure, parce qu'il 
existe je ne sais quel traite ! Y a-t-il des traites avec la 
violence et la tyrannie ? et, tant que j'aurai un glaive ou 
une lance, souffrirai-je qu'on m'insulte et me depouille ? 
Qu'on ignore ces sentiments aux rives du Tibre ) mais toi, 
Flavius, nourri dans l'independance entre l'Ebre et le Rhin, 
comment les ignores-tu ? Quel charme a done Rome pour 
te faire oublier la patrie et l'honneur ? Nomme-moi ces 
recompenses qui valent mieux que les notres, ces titres 
plus beaux que notre estime. Je vois sur ton front les 
marques d'une blessure ; c'est en combattant centre nous 
que tu l'as recue, sans doute on aura bien paye ton sang et 
tes services." 

Flavius cite alors le lieu, le combat ou il fut blesse ; il 
avait ete recompense magnifiquement ; il avait recu un 
plus haut grade ; il etale les couronnes, les bracelets, les 
colliers qu'il a obtenus de !a main de Cesar, et les montre a 
son frere qui sourit de pitie. 

" Voila done le prix de tant de lachete ! des parures de 
femme ; et encore les femmes de notre pays rougiraient de 
les porter. Flavius, est-ce ainsi que la Germanie recom- 
pense ses defenseurs ? J'ai toujours combattu pour elle ; 
j'ai, dans une seule nuit, accable trois legions, trois lieute- 
nants ; on voit encore suspendues aux chenes sacres les 
aigles romaines et les depouilles de Varus ; le vieil Auguste, 
qu'ils appelaient un dieu, en pleura de rage et en mourut 
de douleur. Dernierement encore, j'ai humilie l'orgueii 
du fameux Germanicus ; j'ai chatie cet ecolier de Tibere 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 153 

et son armee seditieuse : crois-tu qu'on m'ait decore de 
bracelets et de couronnes ? Non, quand j'ai paru dans la 
grande assemblee de la nation, tous ont frappe leurs bou- 
cliers et leurs lances ; tous ont fremi en signe d'eloge ; on 
m J a eleve sur le pavois, et proclame prince des Germains. 
O Flavius, tant de gloire dans ton frere ne te fait-elle pas 
envie ? tant de bassesse en toi ne te fait-elle pas honte ? 
En t'attachant a des laches, quel si grand desir as-tu de la 
defaite 1 Car n'espere point nous vaincre avec des legions, 
braves seulement contre leur chef, et qui, pbur eluder la 
guerre, se jettent dans la sedition, avec des soldats uses par 
les blessures et les fatigues, miserables restes echappes a 
la colere des dieux et aux orages de Pocean. lis n'ont fui 
la mort sur les flots que pour la trouver sous nos bras ; et 
les rames et les voiles les defendront mal aujourd'hui contre 
le fer et le glaive. Ou, si les dieux voulaient nous exercer 
par le malheur, si nous devions succomber, serais-tu volon- 
tiers rinstrument de notre ruine ? Guiderais-tu le vain- 
queur dans nos retraites obscures et dans ces cavernes 
connues de nous seuls et des betes feroces ? Le menerais- 
tu par la main au grand autel de la foret, en lui disant : 
Profane-le ; au chene sacre de Teutates, en lui disant : 
Detruis-le ; a l'asile de nos pretresses, en lui disant : Frappe- 
les, egorge-les ? Serais-tu tout a la fois et traitre et sacri- 
lege 1 Je ne le pense pas, Flavius ; autrement j'en ferais 
justice a l'heure me me, a la face des hommes et des dieux. 
Qu'esperes-tu done d'un parti ou la honte est egale pour toi 
dans la victoire et dans la defaite ? Ecoute, mon coursier est 
rapide ; la foret est proche ; viens-t'en rejoindre tes dieux, 
tes parents, ta mere qui pleure chaque jour moins ton ab- 
sence que ton infamie ; redeviens mon compatriote et mon 
frere : si tu refuses, tu n r es plus qu'un lache, et je te pro- 
mets la moft au prochain combat." 

A ces mots, Flavius a rougi de colere ; il est deja trop 
vil pour secouer l'esclavage ; il est encore trop fier pour 
supporter un affront. L'epee a brille dans sa main et 
menace le sein fraternel ; Arminius, non moins ardent, 
s'elance pour venger son injure et celle de tous les Ger- 
mains. Mais les gardes accourus au bruit arretent les 
deux combattants, et les separent fremissant de rage. Le 
centurion romain est ramene dans le camp, et Arminius 
s'enfonce dans la foret d'Hercule, ou l'attend son armee. 



154 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 



LES GOTHS DANS ATHENES.— 260 ans avant j.-c. 

Argument. — Sons le regne de Gallien, lorsque de tous cotes 
i'empire roraain etait en proie aux invasions des barbares, les 
Goths, apres avoir ravage le Peloponese, et pille les villes de 
S parte, d'Argos, de Corinthe et de Thebes, s'emparerent aussi 
d'Athenes vainernent defendue par Cleodame. La ville fut 
saccagee : les Goths rassemblerent, dit-on, les bibliotheques 
qu'elle renfermait et se disposaient a les livrer aux flammes, lors- 
qu'un de leurs chefs, montant a la tribune qui avait retenti des 
accents de Demosthene, proposa d'epargner ces monuments d'un 
art corrupteur, qui entretiendraient dans Tame des Grecs la mol- 
lesse et la lachete avec le gout et les passions fri voles. 

Vous ferez parler le barbare com me il convient aux prejuges 
du temps et au caractere d'un tel orateur. Vous ajouterez 
quelsmes reflexions sur l'influence qu'il impute a la culture des 
lettres. 



NARRATION ET DISCOURS. 

Lorsque l'Empire, en proie au-dedans a toutes les fu- 
reurs de la tyrannie et de l'anarchie, se fesait encore res- 
pecter au-dehors par le souvenir toujours present de ses 
anciennes victoires, les Goths et les autres peuples du Nord 
preludaient par des incursions et des ravages a ces emigra- 
tions armees dont ils devaient plus tard accabler le monde 
romain. Dans ces invasions passageres, ils se contentaient 
de piller les villes et de massacrer tous ceux qui osaient se 
defendre : charges de depouilles, ils repassaient sur les 
glaces de l'hiver ou sur de freles embarcations les fleuves 
qui servaient de limites a leur empire, et allaient etonner 
leurs concitoyens et leurs deserts des produits inconnus 
d'une civilisation avancee. Quelques hordes de Goths, ne 
trouvant plus dans les pays- devastes de quoi servir de 
pature a leurs ravages, oserent s'avancer jusqu'&u ccsur de 
la Grece ; et apres avoir ravage le Peloponese, pille les 
villes de Sparte, d'Argos, de Corinthe et de Thebes, ils se 
presenterent devant Athenes, qui n'avait plus de Miltiade 
ou de Themistocle a opposer aux barbares. 

Athenes, jadis si puissante et si belliqueuse, avait depuis 
iongtemps oublie son antique valeur. EUe se rappelait 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 155 

encore ses grands noms dont quelques rheteurs ampoules 
fesaient retentir leurs ecoles ; mais c'etait en vain que 
dans leurs ridicules declamations ils invoquaient les manes 
de Miltiade et de Pericles : ces heros qui repondaient en- 
core aux accents de Demosthene, n'ecoutaient plus la voix 
de ses successeurs degeneres, qui, sans eloquence parce 
qu'ils etaient sans patriotisme, ne savaient que rappeler des 
souvenirs dont ils etaient dechus, des triomphes qui devaient 
faire rougir leur bassesse, et des grands hommes dont la 
gloire accusait leur lachete. 

Et que pouvaient servir a Athenes toutes ces gloires d'un 
autre siecle, puisqu'elle ne les ofFrait plus que comme une 
brillante matiere aux discours de ses rheteurs, et.non point 
comme un illustre exemple a Pemulation de ses guerriers ? 
Que lui servaient et le Portique et PAcademie, si PAcropo- 
lis etait vide de defenseurs, si les murailles tombaient en 
ruines, si les ports etaient deserts ? Que retira-t-elle de 
cette gloire des lettres et des arts, la seule a laquelle elle 
put desormais pretendre, quand, degeneree d'elle-meme, il 
lui fallut cependant combattre des ennemis plus pauvrcs 
mais plus braves que les anciens Perses ? Elle eprouva 
bien, a Papproche des barbares, qu'il valait mieux imiter 
ses anciens heros que de les chanter, et que dans ses ecoles 
on desapprenait la valeur. 

A peine les Goths ont-ils pris possession de leur nouvelle 
conquete, et dresse, au milieu de cette ville superbe et de 
ses somptueux edifices, leur ville guerriere et leurs tentes 
sauvages, qu'ils s'elancent sur leur proie sans respecter ni 
les temples des dieux ni les antiques maisons des poetes, 
autres temples consacres au genie par Padmiration des 
hommes. Parmi les plus precieux tresors enleves aux de- 
meures des vaincus, ils transporterent sur la place publique 
les travaux de tous les grands hommes des grands siecles, 
qui enflammaient, en les chantant, le courage et toutes les 
vertus patriotiques. Bientot les immortels chefs-d'oeuvre de 
Sophocle et d'Euripide, et de ces sublimes harangues de 
Demosthene, qui fesaient trembler sur leur trone les rois 
ennemis de la Grece, et ces hautes conceptions des princes 
de la philosophic, arraches aux sanctuaires reveres ou de 
nombreux adorateurs venaient leur rendre le plus beau des 
hommages, en y cherchant ou de nobles, ou de grandes, ou 
de touchantes inspirations, vont etre livres aux flammes par 
la grossiere barbarie du vainqueur ! Ainsi une heure va 



156 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

devorer dix siecles de travaux, et confondre dans une mine 
commune tous ces glorieux heritages legues a l'univers par 
le genie ! 

Mais non ; c'est un guerrier barbare qui va les disputer a 
ses concitoyens aveugles, et plaider dans son langage rude 
et inculte la cause des Platon et des Demosthene, cites en 
jugement devant des hordes sauvages. Quelles sont ses 
pensees ? Sentirait-il ce que c'est que le genie ? aurait-il, 
comme par instinct, devine cette admiration qu'il doit com- 
mander aux hommes, et concu une autre gloire que celle 
des armes et de la valeur ? ou bien aurait-il lu quelque 
chose sur le front inspire des statues, ou revivent ces grands 
hommes ? Et ce coup d'ceil d'enthousiasme que l'artiste a 
su tracer sur le bronze aurait-il communique a son coeur 
le feu divin qu'il respire 1 Non, non, d'autres pensees agi- 
tent son ame. II va sauver tant de chefs-d'oeuvre par me- 
pris, et leur faire une nouvelle insulte en les accablant de 
sa pitie. II s'elance a cette meme tribune d'ou les foudres 
du plus puissant des orateurs avaient ete tant de fois 
chercher Philippe jusqu'au fond de sa Macedoirie ; et De- 
mosthene barbare, il parle en ces termes a. ses grossiers 
concitoyens : 

" Que faites-vous, compagnons ! pourquoi ces torches, 
ces feux, ces apprets de joie ? Vous voulez livrer aux 
flammes ce vaste amas de pompeuses inutilites auxquelles 
nos ennemis attachent tant de prix. Je l'avoue, apres le 
doux plaisir d'une ville saccagee, ce serait agreablement 
couronner notre fete, que de faire respirer a tous ces grands 
hommes de bronze cette fumee de leurs ouvrages ; mais 
avant de nous abandonner aux transports d'une joie tumul- 
tueuse, songeons a nous assurer pour jamais la possession 
d'Athenes, ou du moins a. nous eonserver un droit annuel 
sur son pillage. Si nous voulons revenir couper avec nos 
glaives les moissons semees par nos ennemis et enlever les 
tresors qu'entasse sans cesse leur avarice, perpetuons avec 
soin parmi eux la lachete qui leur 6te le pouvoir de se de- 
fendre, et la bassesse qui derobe a leurs yeux le deshonneur 
d'une defaite. 

" Pour cela, compagnons, quel plus infaillible moyen que 
de leur laisser ces livres, meprisables instruments de servi- 
tude, vils professeurs de lachete ! Leurs livres, leurs 
sophistes, voila ce qui fait nos victoires. Sans doute, ces 
hommes a longue barbe, au maintien grave, au long man- 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 157 

teau rejete avec art sur l'epaule gauche, ces hommes qui 
semblent les chefs de cette laehe armee de jeunes audi- 
teurs, presses autour d'eux comme de timides brebis autour 
du patre qui doit les proteger, leur disent pompeusement 
dans leur language harmonieux et effemine : " Voyez les 
statues des grands hommes d'Athenes ; admirez leurs ex- 
ploits ; apprenez, jeunes encore, a chanter leur gloire." 
Mais ils ne leur disent pas : " EfForcez-vous de 1'efFacer par 
la votre, et triomphez d'eux comme ils ont triomphe de 
leurs ennemis." Sans doute aussi ces livres leur appren- 
nent a louer le courage et a etre laches, a regarder les 
heros comme des demi-dieux ofFerts a leur admiration, 
plutot qu'a une emulation genereuse. Pour nous, sans 
poetes, sans beaux parleurs, sans proneurs de vertu, nous 
savons combattre, vaincre et eviter la bassesse. Quand 
nous marchons au carnage, un cri de guerre est le seul 
Pean que nous adressons a nos dieux ; ils l'entendent, ils 
nous exaucent, et nos ennemis fuient devant nous. 

" Voulons-nous done elever les Atheniens jusqu'a notre 
bravoure, et les forcer a etre courageux en leur arrachant 
ces aliments de leur lachete ? Irons-nous, vainqueurs in- 
senses, tourner contre nous-memes notre victoire, et ravir 
a nos ennemis la coupe empoisonnee ou ils puisent la mort ? 
Non, non, abandonnons-leur les chants effemines de leurs 
poetes : laissons croitre dans l'Acropolis l'olivier sacre de 
la deesse. Que le Palladium, debout au milieu des Athe- 
niens, leur promette encore un secours qu'ils ont en vain 
attendu; et nous, guerriers du Nord, revenons dans une 
annee cueillir les fruits qu'ils auront fait murir pour nous, 
et ravager Athenes, quand elle sera redevenue digne de 
notre pillage." 

Ainsi parlait un barbare, Athenes, avec ses sophistes, 
ses rheteurs et sa lachete, etait la pour confirmer son dis- 
cours, mais Athenes d'un autre siecle, Athenes, avec ses 
Themistocle, et ses Pericles, ses Sophocle et ses Euripide, 
les uns a la fois generaux et orateurs, les autres a la fois 
guerriers et poetes, etait la pour justifier les lettres et la 
civilisation contre l'ignorance et la barbarie. 

MEME SUJET. 

Gallien venait de succeder a Valerien son pere. Tan- 
dis que cet empereur, plonge dans la mollesse, ne se souve- 
14 



158 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

nait qu'il etait le maitre du monde que pour s'abandonner 
avec plus de licence a ses honteux penchants, tandis que 
PEgypte, Plllyrie et la Gaule se fesaient de nouveaux em- 
pereurs, une nuee de barbares se precipita tout a coup sur 
l'Orient sans defense. C'etaient les Goths, qui plus tard 
devaient fonder un double empire sur les debris epars du 
colosse romain. Les barbares se repandirent sur la Grece 
comme un torrent devastateur : Sparte, Argos, Thebes, 
Corinthe furent presqu'en meme temps prises et saccagees. 
Ce n'etait plus alors que la Grece pouvait armer des 
hommes libres contre l'invasion etrangere ; des soldats ro- 
mains gardaient les Thermopyles, et la vue des trophees de 
Marathon ne pouvait plus reveiller, dans les arnes amollies 
et endurcies a l'esclavage, que le sentiment de la servitude 
presente, et le souvenir impuissant de la liberte qui n'etait 
plus. En vain le brave Cleodame, renferme dans les murs 
qui avaient vu naitre Themistocle, voulut-il opposer une 
digue a Timpetuosite des hordes asiatiques ; Athenes fut 
vaincue. Ce n'etait pas un tel vainqueur qui pouvait, en 
faveur des morts, pardonner aux vivants ; ce n'etaient pas 
de telles armees qui n'usaient de la victoire que pour rele- 
ver la garde des remparts, et arborer sur des murs conquis 
un etendard victorieux. Les Goths, alteres de sang et de 
pillage, se precipiterent dans la ville soumise, et la mort, 
sous mille formes difforentes, y penetra de toutes parts avec 
eux. Pendant deux jours ils promenerent dans ces murs 
leur fureur indisciplinee \ enfin, rassasies de meurtre et de 
sang, ils s'arreterent pour contempler 1'afFreux spectacle 
qu'Athenes presentait a leur barbarie satisfaite. Mais ils 
veulent signaler leur repos par un exploit nouveau : toutes 
les bibliotheques de la ville avaient ete rassemblees dans la 
place publique ; ils s'y rendent en foule. 

Ce fut alors un etrange et cruel spectacle de voir cette 
auguste enceinte, consacree par tant de grands souvenirs, 
profanee par les Goths victorieux ! Tandis que les Athe- 
niens fixaient sur les vainqueurs des regards ou se peignait 
un triste et stupide etonnement, tandis qu'ils s'efforcaient 
en vain d'elever vers le temple de Minerve protectrice leurs 
mains chargees de chaines, les barbares, confusement en- 
tasses sous les portiques des temples, voyaient d'un ceil in- 
different ces merveilles des arts et du genie. Leurs traits 
sauvages, leur costume asiatique, leurs cris discordants 
formaient un douloureux contraste avec ces monuments 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 159 

(Fun peuple ingenieux et police ; la victoire des Goths 
etait comme le triomphe de la barbarie sur la civilisation. 
Leurs armes reposaient suspendues en trophees aux co- 
lonnes des edifices ; et leurs lances, rougies du sang athe- 
nien, s'elevaient en faisceaux autour de ces marbres captifs. 
Ce peuple de statues, qui remplissait les portiques, semblait 
representer dans cette enceinte les generations qui n'etaient 
plus : Themistocle semblait avoir pris une attitude plus 
menacante, et tous ces vieux herps paraissaient reprocher a 
leurs faibles descendants d'avoir laisse profaner le sanc- 
tuaire de la liberte. 

Cependant un barbare s'avancant au milieu de l'assem- 
blee : " Que tardez-vous, compagnons ? s'ecria-t-il ; hatez- 
vous de livrer aux flammes ces monuments de servitude : 
nous n'avons pas besoin d'emporter dans nos forets ces pre- 
tendus tresors ; mais il faut les ravir aux vaincus. II suf- 
fira de quelques instants, pour aneantir tout ce qu'ils ont 
pense depuis deux mille ans ; hatons-nous, compagnons, de 
consumer ces laches productions de leur faiblesse." 

On applaudit a sa brutale insolence : deja la flamme 
etait prete ; e'en etait fait de ces eternels monuments d'une 
gloire imperissable ; e'en etait fait de la renommee de tant 
de grands hommes. Mais l'arrogante ignorance d'un 
barbare conserva a la posterite cet heritage immortel de la 
science et du genie. Un des chefs de l'armee victorieuse 
s'elance a cette tribune, qui avait retenti des accents de 
Demosthene : " Compagnons, s'ecrie-t-il, qu'allez-vous 
faire ? arretez ! vous meprisez les Atheniens ; votre vertu 
s'irrite de leur faiblesse, et veut aneantir ces monuments 
d'un art corrupteur ! Et moi aussi, je partage cette ver- 
tueuse indignation. Mais quoi ! voulez-vous aneantir les 
instruments de notre victoire 1 voulez-vous retirer des 
mains de votre ennemi le poison lent dont il s'abreuve, et 
qui fait couler dans ses veines la faiblesse et la lachete ? 
Ah ! laissez-les, laissez-les entretenir plutot leur mollesse 
de ce perfide aliment ; ce sont leurs vaines sciences, dont 
ces livres sont les depositaires, qui ont fait germer dan9 
leur ame des semences de corruption. Voyez ce que vous 
etes, voyez ce qu'ils sont ! Fiers d'une noble ignorance, 
nous laissons aux peuples civilises les arts, les sciences, 
vains jouets de leur frivolite ; ainsi le guerrier arme son 
bras de la lance des combats, et remet une oisive quenouille 
, entre les mains de sa faible compagne. Nous n'avons, il 



160 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

est vrai, ni des poetes pour chanter nos exploits, ni des 
philosophes pour nous enseigner la justice ; mais les Athe- 
niens discourent en beau langage des vertus qu'ils n'ont 
pas ; et nous, nous pratiquons la vertu sans en parler. Si 
nous n'avons pas des poetes pour immortaliser nos exploits, 
nous savons vaincre du moins, et c'est un art qu'ont des- 
appris les Atheniens en lisant les chants de triomphe de 
leurs ancetres. Tandis que notre jeunesse s'exerce a faire 
sifHer dans les airs une fleche rapide, a combattre les betes 
feroces, a serrer les flancs d'un coursier agile, la jeunesse 
athenienne se presse autour d'un sophiste ; c'est dans ces 
portiques qu'elle se forme a supporter les intemperies des 
saisons et les fatigues de la guerre. On entretient l'Athe- 
nien des combats de ses peres, il apprend a reciter les 
noms de ces h£ros d'autrefois, mais il n'apprend pas a les 
imiter, et sa main pourrait a peine soulever ces armes que 
leurs percs vainqueurs consacrerent aux dieux. Pour eux, 
la justice est une science, la valeur un calcul ; mais sur le 
champ de bataille, ils oublient les honteuses lecons d'un 
gladia.eur mercenaire. -Laissons-les done, braves com- 
pagnons, laissons-les nourrir leurs ames des preceptes d'une 
sagesse menteuse ; laissons-leur ces livres, instruments de 
corruption et de servitude. Tandis qu'ils ehanteront en 
vers harmonieux leur ville saecagee par les enfants du 
Nord, preparons-nous a des victoires nouvelles. Ces livres 
que nous leur laissons, voila les chaines que nous leur impo- 
sons, voila le joug que leur faiblesse n'osera secouer. Qu'ils 
negligent encore la science des combats, la seule digne de 
J'homme, pour se livrer a des occupations frivoles, a des arts 
imposteurs ; notre triomphe n'en sera que plus facile, quand 
les jours marques par nos devins seront arrives, et que les 
hordes du Nord feront rouler leurs maisons errantes jusqu'au 
boutdecemondeinconnu promisaleurs armes triomphantes!" 
Ainsi parlait un barbare. Malheureux sans doute celui 
qui blasphemait ainsi les plus nobles creations du genie ! 
plus malheureux encore ces Atheniens, dont la lachete 
semblait justifier de pareils blasphemes ! Mais quoi ! de- 
vait-on accuser de la faiblesse de leurs concitoyens ces 
philosophes dont les grandes et sublimes lecons elevaient 
lame a toutes les vertus, ces poetes, chantres de la gloire, 
dont les vers etaient la plus belle couronne des heros vic- 
torieux ? Ah ! ce n'etait pas dans les chants du divin 
Homere, ce n'etait pas en contemplant sur un champ de 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 161 

bafaille Pimpetuosite d'Ajax, la valeur de Diomede, la 
bravoure d'Hector, et Pindomptable ardeur du fils de Pelee, 
que les Grecs avaient appris a cecler a. l'ennemi un triom- 
phe facile ! Avaient-ils pris des lecons de lachete dans 
les chants immortels de ce poete, qui distribuait la gloire 
aux jeux de PIsthme et d'Olympie ? ou bien dans les vers 
du fougueux Eschyle, qui celebrait des exploits auxquels 
il s'etait associe, et fesait apparaitre Pombre consternee de 
Darius pour proclamer les victoires d'Athenes ? Et toi, 
Tyrtee, toi, dont les vers etaient des cris de guerre et des 
promesses de victoire, etait-ce toi qui avais dit a ces Athe- 
niens : " Renoncez a. la gloire des armes ; abandonnez aux 
barbares Phonneur de vaincre dans les combats ?" Eh 
quoi ! n'etait-ce pas sur cette me me tribune, profanee 
maintenant par un orateur descendu du Caucase, que tant 
d'orateurs citoyens avaient fait honneur a la parole, en 
pretant le secours de leur eloquence aux plus nobles inspi- 
rations du patriotisme ? Etait-ce done dans les livres de 
leurs philosophes que les Atheniens avaient trouve Papolo- 
gie s et rencouragement de leur lachete ? Mais cet bomme. 
le plus sublime comme )e plus modeste des philosophes, qui 
ne laissa d'autre livre a la posterite que les vertus de sa 
vie et le grand exemple de sa mort, Socrate, combattit avec 
intrepidite sous les murs de Potidee. Platon consacrait son 
eloquence a celebrer les guerriers morts dans les combats. 
Xenophon, avant d'etre un grand philosophe, avait ete bon 
soldat et savant capitaine ; et la retraite des dix mille per- 
petue autant le souvenir de son nom que la douceur de son 
eloquence et les charmes de sa sagesse. Ah ! gardons- 
nous de le croire : non, les lettres, ce present sublime que 
le ciel a fait a l'homme, les lettres qui eveillent le premier 
enthousiasme de la jeunesse, qui font Petude et le delasse- 
ment de Page mur, la gloire et la consolation de la vieil- 
lesse, les lettres ne peuvent faire germer dans les ames 
aucun sentiment indigne de leur celeste origine. Les let- 
tres sont associees a toutes les vertus guerrieres et poli- 
tiques ; elles se rattachent a tout ce qu'il y a de grand 
parmi les homines. Loin d'enseigner la lachete, les lettres 
excitent le courage du guerrier, le delassent de ses fatigues 
et immortalisent ses exploits. Les lettres ont perfectionne 
Part des combats ; et si les Alaric, les Attila, dont la 
valeur n'etait qu'un instinct grossier qui les precipitait au 
milieu des dangers, se sont pares d'un mepris superbe 
14* 



162 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

pour un art qu'ils ne connaissaient pas 5 d'autres conque* 
rants, d'une valeur plus eclatante encore, ont venge haute- 
ment cet art sublime de la dedaigneuse ignorance de ces 
heros barbares. C.'est pour obtenir le suffrage d'un peuple 
ingenieux qu'Alexandre exposait chaque jour sa fortune 
et sa vie ; et quand, vainqueur de Darius, il ne vit plus de 
guerrier que 1'admiration des hommes elevat jusqu'a lui, 
c'est dans Homere que son emulation alia chercher des 
modeles ; il s'efforca de surpasser ces heros agrandis par 
les vers du poete ; et c'est peut-etre au chantre d 'Achilla 
que la Grece dut Alexandre. 




EDOUARf> EN ECOSSE.— 1746 ans apres j.-c. 

Argument. — Apres quelques heureux succes, le pretendant 
Charles-Edouard avait ete baltu a la journee de Culloden, et 
errait sans secours et sans asile. — On peindra en quelques mots 
sa detresse et ses souffrances ineessamment croissantes a la nou- 
velle du supplice de la plupart de ses partisans. 

Edouard est sur le point de tomber entre les mains des soldats 
charges de le saisir. — II ne peut trouver d'asile que dans le cha- 
teau d'un seigneur anglais, Tun de ses mortels ennemis. — Le 
prince se presente devant cet homme : 4; Le fiis de vos rois, lui 
dit-il, vient vous demander du pain et des habits. Recevez en 
echange ces miserables vetements : peut-etre un jour vous me 
les rapporterez a Londres dans le palais de mes peres." 

Effet de cette noble confiance. — Le seigneur anglais lui fournit 
les moyens de s'echapper. — Le bruit de cette genereuse action 
se repand. — Le seigneur anglais est cite en justice eorarae coupa- 
ble de haute trahison. — II se defend. — Aveu de son crime. — II 
decrira Tetat miserable du prince. — Pouvait-il violer envers lui 
les lois de l'hospitalite ? 

II rappellera quel a ete son devouement pour la maison de 
Hanovre et la haine bien connue qu'il porte aux Stuarts. — Doit- 
il etre confondu avec ceux qui ont favorise la criminelle entre- 
prise du pretendant ? 

Peroraison vive et pathetique. — Que celui-la soit le premier h 
le condamner qui, a sa place, n'eut pas agi de meme.. 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PtJPlLS. 163 



NARRATION ET DISCOURS, 

Sans autre appui que sa faible puissance et sa noble 
vertu, le descendant des rois d'Angleterre, Tin fortune 
Charles-Edouard, avait entrepris de conquerir trois royau- 
mes. II s'etait souvenu que ses aieux etaient des rois, 
il paya bien cher ce souvenir. A ce nom de Stuart, qui 
lui rappelait la gloire de ses anciens jours, PEcosse s'etait 
soulevee, et s'etait elancee sur l'Angleterre ; Londres 
meme avait fremi du bruit des premiers succes d'Edouard, 
Mais bientot le desastre de Culloden fit tout rentrer dans le 
silence ; les proscriptions et les bourreaux aneantirent les 
debris d'un parti qui naguere menacait de tout envahin 
Proscrit, errant au hasard sur cette terre pleine des mal- ' 
heurs de sa famille et de ses propres revers, souillee du 
sang de son ai'eul, arrosee du sang de ses partisans, n'ayant 
pas un ami qui soulageat ses douleurs en les partageant 
avec lui, force de cacher son rang sous des habits em- 
pruntes, Charles-Edouard cherchait en vain un asile ou il 
put reposer son front qu'auraient du ceindre trois diademes. 

Chaque jour ses partisans que le malheur avait fletris du 
nom de rebelles, expiaient sur l'echafaud leurs perilleux 
devouement ; et lui-meme, entoure des satellites du vain- 
queur, et pour ainsi dire prisonnier dans le royaume qu'il 
etait venu conquerir , derobait a. peine aux soldats de Cum- 
berland sa tete proscrite. Que faire ? ou se refugier? 
Chaque instant ajoute a. sa detresse, et bientot il n'a plus 
que le choix du danger. De toutes parts les soldats ap- 
prochent ; ils vont le saisir : un seul asile pent encore le 
derober pour quelques moments aux poursuites du vain- 
queujr ; c'est le chateau d'un seigneur anglais, ennemi 
mortel d'Edouard et de sa famille. Ainsi ce prince, 
naguere entoure de dix mille combattants devoues a. sa 
cause, accueilli par les acclamations de tout un peuple, 
aujourd'hui deplorable jouet de la fortune, ne pouvait plus 
se defendre que par la pitie qu'il inspirait. II ne s'agissait 
plus de conquerir un trone, mais de sauver sa vie. II 
n'etait plus temps d'hesiter. La faim, Je danger toujours 
croissant, le desespoir, le decident ; il se presente devant 
cet homme : " Le fiis de vos rois, lui dit-il, vient vous de- 
mander du pain et des habits. Je sais que vous etes mon 
ennemi ; mais je vous crois trop genereux pour- abuser de 
ma situation. Prenez ces miserables vetements : vous 



164 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

pourrez me les rapporter un jour dans le palais des rois de 
la Grande-Bretagne." 

Le malheur avait accable Charles-Edouard ; mais, en 
ce moment, l'exces meme de l'infortune lui avait rendu 
tout son courage et toute sa dignite. Edouard suppliant, 
Edouard dans la detresse, etait plus grand qu ; il ne l'aurait 
ete au milieu des pompes de Westminster. La haine se 
tut dans le coeur du seigneur anglais. Emu de tant de 
revers, touche de tant de confiance, il favorisa la fuite 
d'Edouard, et sa vie du moins fut sauvee. Mais cette 
genereuse action ne pouvait etre longtemps ignoree. De- 
nonce comme coupable de haute trahison, le seigneur an- 
glais comparut devant ses juges avec cette noble tranquillite 
qui n'abandonne jamais l'innocence. 

" Jusqu'a ce jour, dit-il, c'est les armes a la main, c'est 
sur un champ de bataille, et non pas devant un tribunal 
que j'ai justifie ma fidelite a mon pays. Aujourd'hui, 
accuse de trahison, je n'essaierai pas de racheter ma vie 
au prix d'un lache desaveu : il est vrai, citoyens, j'ai recu 
sous mon toit le jeune Stuart, et j'ai protege sa fuite. 
Est-ce la trahir les lois ? J'ose le demander, de toutes 
ces lois, boulevard inexpugnable de nos libertes, en est-il 
une qui proscrive l'hospitalite, qui aneantisse ses droits 
partout respectes ? Parlez, en est-il une qui nous ordonne 
de trahir l'etranger refugie sous notre tok, de tromper sa 
confiance, de repousser son infortune ? Une telle loi, qui 
ferait fremir les nations les plus barbares, fut-elle meme 
etablie dans le reste du monde, serait-ce chez un peuple 
libre qu'il faudrait l'invoquer ? Mais c'est un rebelle que 
j'ai recu dans ma demeure ; je suis devenu complice de sa 
rebellion. Ah ! citoyens, etait-il encore rebelle ce mal- 
heureux qui, en proie aux horreurs de la faim et de la 
maladie, avait a peine assez de force pour implorer la pitie 
au nom de ses miseres ? Qu'importait alors que ses aieux 
eussent regne ? Le petit-fils de Jacques II n'etait plus 
qu'un suppliant. Qu'importait alors une naissance, un 
nom qu'il aurait voulu se cacher a lui-meme, et qui, par le 
souvenir du pass6, rendaient le present plus accablant en- 
core ? Etait-ce un ennemi redoutable celui qui n'aspirait 
plus qu'a s'enfuir d'un royaume qu'il s'etait d'abord flatte 
de conquerir 1 

" Ah ! s'il edt encore conserve cette injuste et chime- 
rique esperance, ce n'est pas dans ma demeure qu'Edouard 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 165 

eat cherche un refuge ! Ma haine bien connue pour sa 
famille, mon devouement pour ma patrie, n'etaient pas 
ignores de Stuart lui-meme. Je pouvais avoir pitie d'un 
proscrit suppliant ; mais devenir le complice d'un ennemi 
de l'Etat, favoriser sa criminelle entreprise, marcher sous 
la banniere d'un rebelle ! j'aurais prefere la mort a cette 
trahison. Quand autour de moi chacun s'armait pour 
soutenir de coupables desseins, j'ai pris les armes aussi ; 
mais c'etait pour combattre ce meme parti que Ton m'ac- 
cuse aujourd'hui d'avoir favorise. Allez interroger le 
champ de bataille de Culloden : je ne recuserai pas son 
temoignage. 

" Si ma fidelite cependant parait encore suspecte, s'il en 
est un parmi vous, citoyens, qui ne puisse pardonner a 
celui qui combattit Edouard rebelle d'avoir sauve la vie 
d'Edouard vaincu, fugitif, suppliant, s'il en est un qui me 
condamne, qu'il se leve, qu'il jure que soncceur aurait ete 
ferme a toute pitie ; qu'inaccessible a tout sentiment d'hon- 
neur et d'humanite, qu'insensible a ce prestige entrainant 
de la grandeur abaissee, il aurait vendu aux bourreaux la 
tete de l'infortune dont la noble confiance reclamait un 
asile au nom des droits sacres de 1'hospitalite. .... Mais, 
comme je l'espere, s'il n'est pas dans cette enceinte, que 
dis-je ? dans l'Angleterre tout entiere, un citoyen capable 
de prononcer un tel serment, ne punissez pas un soldat de- 
voue, un citoyen fidele, d'avoir fait ce qu'a sa place vous 
auriez tous fait comme lui," 



IMILCON A BOSTAR, AVANT LA BATAILLE DE ZAMA. 

202 ANS AVANT J.-C. 

Argument. — II annonce a son ami qu'une bataille decisive va 
se livrer le jour suivant. 

Une conference sans resultat a eu lieu entfe Annibal et Sci- 
pion. II revele a son ami les secrets de l'entrevue a laquelle ii 
assistait, l'impression produite sur lui par la vue du jeune Scipion, 
par sa reponse ferme quoique mesuree. 

II a surpris lui-meme les inquietudes d'Annibal ; il Va en- 



166 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

tendu se plaindre de ses envieux. — Annibal a perdu i'espoir ; 
mais sa baine survit encore. 

II termine sa lettre, en s'abandonnant a de tristes pressenti- 
ments. 



LETTRE. 

La fierte romaine ne s'est pas dementie ; la treve est 
rompue : demain nous livrerons bataille ; demain Carthage 
sera reine du monde ou esclave de Rome. Annibal, sous 
un exterieur calme et serein, est devore d'inquietudes : 
pour la premiere fois peut-etre sa prudence s'eet trahie ; 
j'ai penetre comme malgre lui dans son cceur, et je suis 
encore epouvante de ce que j'ai decouvert. Mais avant 
de te faire part de mes craintes, je veux te raconter l'en- 
trevue qu' Annibal eut avec Scipion. Je suis seul, en proie 
a d'affligeantes pensees ; le soin de t'ecrfre peut seul faire 
diversion a de trop justes alarmes. 

Scipion etait dans sa tente seul avec Lelius et deux 
autres chefs ; Annibal, de son cote, n'admit a. la conference 
que Magon, ton pere et moi. Quand ces deux grands 
hommes furent en presence, ils se saluerent sans rien dire ; 
et, comme saisis Pun pour l'autre d'une secrete admiration, 
ils resterent quelque temps a. se considerer. Annibal prit 
la parole, son discours fut simple et modeste, rempli toute- 
fois de noblesse et de dignite : il etait aise de voir combien 
il en coutait au vainqueur de Cannes d'avouer devant un 
rival si jeune ses revers et sa faiblesse. Pendant son dis- 
cours, j'observais Scipion. Un air de grandeur et de mo- 
destie, de sagesse et d'audace annoncait un de ces hommes 
privilegies qui, jeunes encore, trouvent dans leur genie 
l'experience de la vieillesse. Sa physionomie, ou la can- 
deur se melait a la bonte, s'anima aussitot qu'Annibal 
voulut parler des conditions de paix, et, quand il rappela 
indirectement la mauvaise foi de nos senateurs, Toeil noir 
de Scipion etincela d'indignation. II mit pourtant plus de 
moderation dans sa reponse qu'on n'en devait esperer d'un 
vainqueur de trente ans : elle fut courte et un peu fiere ; 
il finit par nous proposer la guerre ou des conditions plus 
dures que jamais. Le silence d'Annibal fit voir qu'il 
aimait mieux tenter une demiere fois le sort des armes, que 
d'imposer a Carthage un joug si rigoureux. 



am 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 167 

Au sortir de Pentrevue, Annibal se montra, contre sa 
eoutume, pensif et reveur. Je marchais seul aupres de 
lui, et sa demarche inegale m'avertit bientot du trouble de 
son ame. II vit que son emotion m'avait frappe, et ne pou- 
vant plus contenir la violence de ses sentiments, il me 
toucha assez rudement sur l'epaule : 

" Mes ennemis, dit-il, repetent sans cesse que mon ambi- 
tion ne connait d'autre patrie que le tumulte d J un camp ; 
aujourd'hui peut-etre ils reconnaitront si j'aime Carthage : 
c'est pour elle qu'apres quinze ans de triomphes Annibal se 
fait refuser la paix par des Romains ! . . . Grands dieux ! 
continua-t-il avec vehemence, si Carthage est a la veille de 
perir, est-ce Annibal qu'il faut accuser, lui qu'on a vu 
triomphant faire trembler Rome dans ses propres murailles, 
lui qui, depuis trente-six ans, a sacrifie aux interets d'une 
ingrate patrie, sante, fortune, parents, tout, jusqu'a sa 
fierte ?" 

EfTraye de Pavenir terrible qu'il venait d'entr'ouvrir : 
" Eh quoi I lui dis-je, parce que Scipion s'est jete dans 
l'Afrique, faut-il desesperer du salut de Carthage ? Rome 
aussi, du haut de ses remparts, a vu l'ennemi couvrir ses 
campagnes." 

" Sans doute, reprit-il, je fus a Cannes et a Trasimene 
tel que tu vois Scipion ; mais plut au ciel que Carthage fut 
maintenant telle que Rome etait alors ! Les Romains 
trouvent sans peine dans leur patriotisme des ressources 
immenses et toujours renaissantes ; mais nous, le tresor 
public est notre seul rempart ; quand il est epuise, nous 
sommes vaincus. Que veut-on que je fasse d'un ramas 
d'etrangers lies a la cause qu'ils defendant par un vil in- 
teret ? Qui, sans doute, si mon experience peut sauver 
Carthage, Carthage sera sauvee ; mais, quand le gouvernail 
est brise, a quoi sert Thabilete du pilote ? J'ai cru un ins- 
tant qu'en depit d'elle-meme Carthage commanderait au 
monde ; mais, du jour ou Neron fit jeter dans mon camp la 
tete d'Asdrubal, je n'ai plus desire qu'une chose, la paix 
avec les Romains." 

Je ne pus m'empecher de lui dire : " Aviez-vous done 
oublie le serment que vous fites si jeune entre les mains 
d'Amilcar V 

" Peux-tu bien le penser 1 • reprit-il d'un ton severe ; 
oublier la haine que je dois au«: Romains ! Non, jamais ; 
je suis ne avec elle, avec elle je veux mourir. Ce desir de 



168 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

paix naissait de Pimpuissance de soutenir mes triomphes. 
Que veux-tu ? quand le lion de nos deserts, epuise de fa. 
tigues et de blessures, se condamne un instant au repos, 
sort-il pour cela moins furieux et moins terrible de ce som- 
meil d'un jour 1" 

II allait continuer ; mais la vue du camp et la voix des 
sentinelles, qui de loin saluaient leur general, le rappela 
tout a coup a sa prudence ordinaire : " Jeune homme, me 
dit-il, je me suis oublie ; tu as penetre les secrets de mon 
ame ; fais en sorte que nous n'ayons pas a nous repentir, 
moi de mon imprudence, toi d'une curiosite peut-etre teme- 
raire." 

Je voulais Passurer de ma discretion ; il mit un doigt sur 
sa bouche, et soudain son front s'eclaircit, son visage reprit 
sa confiance et son audace habituelle. Arrive dans sa 
tente, il assembla tous nos chefs, leur annonca la bataille, 
et d'un air de gaite donna les ordres necessaires. Chacun 
repondit par des protestations de devouement et de fidelite : 
Annibal temoigna sa satisfaction et declara qu'il voulait 
etre seul ; sans doute fatigue de la gene qu'il s'impose en 
public, il desire se livrer sans temoin aux mortelles inquie- 
tudes dont je l'ai vu agite. 

Bostar, je m'arrete ici : quand tu recevras cette lettre, 
le sort de Carthage sera decide. Puisse le ciel ne pas jus- 
tifier les craintes d'Annibal ! Puisse PAfrique devenir 
pour Rome une autre plaine de Cannes ! Adieu, Bostar ; 
quel que soit Parret du destin, ton ami ne se montrera pas 
indigne de ce nom ; helas ! c'est peut-etre la derniere fois 
qu'il m'est permis de te donner le doux nom d'ami. Bos- 
tar, cette idee est dechirante ; mes yeux se remplissent de 
larmes ; mon courage s'amollit ; je me hate de fermer 
cette lettre. Non, ce n'est point la veille d'une bataille 
qu'il faut ecrire a son ami. 



GISCON EN FAVEUR D'AMILCAR.— 480 ans avant j.-c. 

Priambule. — Chez les Carthaginois, les generaux etaient 
responsables des evenements de la guerre. On avait etabli 
un tribunal qui punissait un revers comme un crime d'Etat. 
Plus de deux cents ans avant la premiere guerre punique, 
Amilcar, le capitaine le plus estime de son temps, ayant 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 169 

€l6 deficit en Sieile par Gelon, se precipita lui-meme dans 
un bucher ou, pendant le combat, il avait fait brftler des 
victirnes en l'honneur des dieux. Giscon, fils d'Amilcar, 
fut cite a Carthage devant le tribunal redoutable qui jugeait 
les generaux vaincus : il devait justifier la conduite de son 
pere, et subir lui-meme la sentence dont on eut puni Amii- 
car, s'il eut survecu a sa defaite. 

Argument. — Giscon commence a la fors avec fermete et avec 
douleur, en disant qu'il se s'attendait pas qu'on put, apres la mort 
de son pere., ajouter encore a son infortune. — On vent qu'il rende 
compte a des juges de la conduite d'Amilcar. — Amilcar a fort 
longtemps servi la republique. — II l'a defendue de son sang. — II 
est mort pour elle dans les plaines de la Sieile : voila ses crimes. 

Pourquo^i le courage malheureux serait-il criminel? — Carthage 
seule a donne aux nations, l'exemple de ces accusations" bar- 
bares. — Qu'elle punisse les traitres a la patrie, mais qu'elle 
honore, qu'elle console le brave guerrier et le bon citoyen trahi 
par la fortune. 

Amilcar, vainqueur tant de fois, s'est assez cruellement puni 
lui-meme d'un seul revers. — II vivrait peut-etre encore pour la 
gloire de Carthage, s'il n'eut redoute Tinjustice de ses conci- 
toyens. — Que du moins on ne poursuive pas sa memoire! — 
Qu'on nefietrisse pas son nom ! 

Quand Amilcar serait coupable, son fils ne devrait pas etre 
responsable de ses fautes. — Mais Giscon consent avec joie a se 
charger du crime. — Qu'on le condamne, pourvu qu'on respecte 
la memoire de son pere- 

DISCOTJRS. 

J'etais done encore destine a cette cruelle infortune, et 
le ciel, apres la mort d'Amilcar, me reservait d'autres 
coups ! O mon pere ! apres avoir vu ta gloire tomber de- 
vant Gelon, apres t'avoir vu te sacrifier toi-meme sur Pautel 
des dieux immortels, comme une grande victime destinee a 
detourner de Carthage leur celeste courroux, devais-je 
m'attendre que la fortune ajouterait encore a mes maux, et 
que, malgre l'amertume de mes regrets, toutes mes larmes 
ne seraient point pour ta cendre ! Je croyais voir, a Car- 
thage, le defenseur de la patrie pleure par ses concitoyens, 
et ce sont ses concitoyens qui accusent sa memoire ! 
15 



170 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

On vent que je rende compte a des juges de la conduit© 
d' Amilcar : citoyens, consultez ces drapeaux suspendus 
aux voutes de vos temples, ces images des villes vaincues 
qui couvrent les murs de vos portiques, tant de glorieux 
trophees qui s'elevent au milieu de vos places ; ils vous re- 
pondront mieux que moi ! Amilcar a defendu la republique 
de son sang ; il a agrandi sa patrie par ses eonquetes ; pen- 
dant de longues annees, il n'a vecu que pour elle, et il est 
mort pour elle dans les champs de la Sicile. Voila ses 
crimes : si quelqu'un lui en sait d'autres, qu'il se leve et 
1'accuse. 

Mon pere a, dit-on, deshonore nos armes. Les ombres 
sanglantes de tant de heros immoles dans les plaines de 
Syracuse demandent vengeance a Carthage. Amilcar a 
trahi la patrie, il a merite le supplice. Eh quoi ! citoyens, 
depuis quand nomme-t-on trahison le courage maMieureux ? 
Quand vous choisissez parmi vous un chef a vos armees, 
ce titre dont vous le revetez le rend-il invincible ? Vous 
doit-il compte des coups de la fortune et des arrets du 
destin ? Quel autre peuple fit jamais un crime a un capi- 
taine d'avoir succombe sous un ennemi plus puissant, et 
punit jamais du supplice sa valeur trompee par la fortune ? 
Vous seuls avez donne aux nations l'exemple de ces accu- 
sations barbares. O Carthage ! quand cesseras-tu de pre- 
parer toi-meme par ton ingratitude des triomphes a tes 
ennemis ? Tu veux toujours vaincre, et tu fais tout pour 
etre vaincue. Tu exiges des victoires sous peine du sup- 
plice ; mais tu ne vois pas que tes sanglantes lois ne peu- 
vent qu'efFrayer le genie du guerrier, et le rend re inutile a 
la gloire ? Eh ! quel homme, a l'aspect d'Amilcar vaincu, 
oserait sur sa tete repondre de la victoire ? Qui voudra 
de l'honneur dangereux du commandement, alors qu'entre 
la victoire et le supplice il ne voit point l'espoir de se rele- 
yer d'une premiere defaite ? Quels ennemis desespereront 
du triomphe, quand ils te verront si prompte a prevenir 
dans le sang de tes plus redoutes capitaines le renversement 
de leur puissance ? Le guerrier qui a succombe en de- 
fendant courageusement la patrie, da'ns ton aveugle ven- 
geance le confondras-tu avec le traitre qui, trafiquant de 
l'honneur de tes armes, aura vendu pour de Tor le droit 
d'egorger impunement tes soldats ? Livre au supplice les 
traitres a la patrie : leur sang ne saurait couler assez tot 
pour l'exemple des hommes ; mais honore, console le brave 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 171 

guerrier et le bon citoyen trahi par la fortune ; ta clemence 
le fera bientot invincible. 

Aujourd'hui, Carthaginois, que vous donnera ce sang 
que reclame votre inexorable colere ? Amilcar, vainqueur 
tant de fois, ne s'est-il point assez cruellement puni lui- 
meme d'un seul revers ? S'il n'eut connu Carthage et son 
impitoyable injustice, il vivrait encore, ce heros ; il vivrait 
pour la gloire de la patrie, pour la ruine de ses vainqueurs. 
Detestez done cette necessite de la victoire qui jusqu'ici, 
plus que le fer ennemi, a cause vos defaites en vous ravis- 
sant vos grands hommes. Si votre vengeance justement 
redoutee a force Amilcar a mourir vaincu, ah ! du moins 
ne poursuivez pas sa memoire ! que ce nom, si longtemps 
pour vos soldats le gage assure de la victoire, ne soit pas 
honteusement fletri, et que vos ressentiments s'arretent de- 
van t son torn beau ! 

Et moi, que vous trainez devant ce tribunal, quand 
Amilcar serait coupable, devrais-je done etre responsable 
de ses fautes ? Depuis quand a-t-on charge un fils inno- 
cent des crimes de son pere ? Les liens du sang en font- 
ils necessairement son complice ? . . . . Mais non, char- 
gez-moi du crime, j'y consens avec joie ; seulement, vous 
n'avez demande qu'un coupable, ne prenez aussi qu'une 
victime. Mon pere, par une mort glorieuse, s'est derobe a 
l'infamie du supplice : que cette infamie retombe sur ma 
tete ; condamnez-moi ; mais que votre ressentiment s'eteigne 
dans mon sang, et respectez la memoire d 'Amilcar. Peut- 
etre vos neveux se souviendront-ils quelquefois de mon sup- 
plice ; mais j'aime mieux que Ton dise que Carthage a ete 
injuste envers Giscon qui n'avait rien fait pour elle, qu'in- 
grate envers Amilcar qui fut si longtemps son appui. 



CINEAS DANS LE SENAT ROMAIN.— 279 ans avant j.-c. 

Argument, — Cineas commencera par le temoignage du res- 
pect et de l'admiration qu'il eprouve a la vue des senateurs as- 
semble^. — Les Romains ne lui paraissent pas moins grands au 
milieu du senat que sur un champ de bataille. 

II rappellera modestement les succes de Pyrrbns. — II s'arretera 
sur le caractere de ce prince, sur son amour de la gloire, sur ses 



172 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

destinees qui l'amenent en Italie du fond de 1'Epire, et qui sem- 
blent le reserver pour de plus grandes conquetes. 

II ne fera pas un portrait moins flatteur de la puissance, du 
patriotisme du genie des Romains. — Faut-il que ce grand peuple 
et ce grand roi soient toujours en guerre, tandis qu'une alliance 
sincere et la reunion de leurs armes leur livreraient Pltalie ! — 
Mais de quel cote l'orgueil cedera-t-il ? — De quelle part viendra 
la premiere demande ? — Puisque les dieux ont permis que 
Pyrrhus remportat la victoire, sans doute ils veulent que ce soit 
lui qui demande la paix. 

DISCOURS- 

Senateurs, envoye par le roi mon maitre, pour trailer de 
la paix avec la Republique, tout ce qui s'offre a. ma vue 
redouble en moi Phorreur de combattre un si grand peuple 
et le desir de meriter son alliance. Jusqu'a ce jour, je 
n'avais eonnu des Romains que leur bravoure dans les 
batailles, leur mepris de la mort, leur amour de la liberte ; 
je n'avais vu qu'une b-rillante jeunesse et des heros. 
Aujourd'hui que je contempt e ces peres de la patrie, aussi 
vene rabies par leur age que par leurs vertus, ces vieillards 
consulaires. qui servent FEtat de leurs conseils, apres 
Pavoir servi de leurs bras, et dont le repos est encore un 
bienfait pour Rome, mon admiration s'accroit, mon ame se 
confond. Je vois que si les monarchies font quelquefois 
briller sur les trones des vertus isolees, il n'appartient 
qu'aux Etats libres de nous presenter a. la fois ce groupe 
de vertus, ce cortege de talents qu'enfantent Pemulation et 
Pegal'ite ; et que, si PEpire n'a qu'un seul Pyrrhus, Rome 
renferme une assemhlee de rois. 

Et ne croyez pas, senateurs, qu'en vous comparant un 
souverain, je veuille ou flatter mon maitre ou rabaisser la 
majeste romaine : je sais que vous haissez les rois, et que 
vous poursuivez en eux le litre qu'ont porte les Tarquins ; 
mais je sais aussi que vous reverez et le divin Romulus et 
le pieux Numa ; que plus d'un monarque etranger merita 
votre estime et votre alliance, et que vous proclamates vos 
amis Porsenna PEtrurien et Gelon de Syracuse. 

Eleve d'Alexandre et descendant d'Achille, Pyrrhus est 
digne a la fois de son education et de sa naissance, de son 
aieul et de son maitre. Son caractere est forme sur ces 
illustres modeles : ambitieux comme le vainqueur^de 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 173 

Darius, mais de l'ambition des grandes ames ; tourmente, 
comme le fils de Pelee, du besoin de la celebrite ; indocile 
au repos ; aimant mieux une belle mort en Italie qu'une 
obscure vieillesse en Epire, l'instinct de la gloire plutot 
que 1'envie de vous nuire l'a arrae contre vous. II voulait 
moiiis proteger Pinjure de Tarente, que trouver dans Rome 
une illustre rivale, dont il put triompher avec honneur, par 
laquelle il put etre vaincu sans honte. Combien de fois, au 
,milieu de cette sanglante melee ou la fortune seconda ses 
efforts, il s'ecria, couvert de sueur et de poussiere : " Qu'on 
me donne une armee de Romains et je soumettrai le monde !" 
Combien de fois il laissa echapper ces mots heroiques : 
" Alexandre, eusses-tu dompte de pareils ennemis ?" Et, 
rentrant dans le camp apres la victoire, il soignait vos 
blesses, renvoyait vos prisonniers sans rancon ; puis depo- 
sant la pourpre et l'epee, le faste de la grandeur et les 
marques de la mefiance, il allait conferer avec Fabricius ; 
c'etait une lutte de valeur et de magnanimite. Et qu'on 
ne dise pas que sa clemence est l'effet de la crainte, et que 
cette moderation envers les autres n'est que prudence pour 
lui-meme. Pyrrhus a Tame trop haute pour vous crain- 
dre ; il ne sait que vous estimer. 

11 connait tous les exploits de vos peres et les miracles 
de vos heros ; la resistance d'Horatius Codes, la Constance 
de Mucius, la fuite de Clelie. Que dis-je ? lui-meme 
eprouve en ce jour que cette renommee, qui avait passe fe 
mer et penetre jusqu'en Epire, ne l'avait point faussement 
instruit de la grandeur romaine ; il reconnait que les fils 
de Decius et de Camille sont egaux a leurs peres, et que la 
generation presente est egale aux generations des siecles 
passes. Et quels plus beaux exemples que ceux de nos 
jours ! Si Dentatus refusa For des Samnites qu'il avait 
vaincus, Fabricius refuse les presents d'un rei qu'il a 
sauve de pieges domestiques, et ne veut d'autre recompense 
que l'estime d'un ennemi et la louange de ses concitoyens. 
Levinus, battu, resiste encore et ne desespere point de la 
Republique ; une armee detruite, une autre la remplace 
plus florissante et plus belle que - la premiere, aussi en- 
flammee par la precedente defaite que d'autres le sont par 
une victoire. Et ne vous etonnez pas, senateurs, d'en- 
tendre vos louanges dans la bouche d'un ennemi : je cede 
a l'admiration qui m'entraine, et je vous expose en meme 
temps les sentiments de Pyrrhus envers Rome. 
15* 



174 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Eh quoi ! faut-il que ce, grand peuple et ce grand roi se 
fassent une guerre eternelle, et se combattent par les armes, 
quand ils sont unis par le coeur ? Ah ! bien plutot, qu'ils 
emploient a dompter les nations ces forces qu'ils epuisent 
contre eux-memes ! qu'ils unissent ensemble leur puissance 
et leurs destinees ! Et qui pourrait desormais resister a. 
l'ascendant du Capitole et de l'Epire, quand les fils d'Enee 
et ceux d'Achille marcheraient sous les memes etendards, 
quand on verrait les vieux compagnons de Camille et ceux 
d'Alexandre se donner la main pour marcher a la conquete 
du monde ? Bientot l'ltalie entiere domptee, depuis la 
voluptueuse Tarente jusqu'aux montagnes de la Gaule, ne 
serait que le prelude d'une si vaste entreprise ; la Sicile 
aussi reconnaitrait votre puissance, et de la, transportant 
vos aigles en Afrique, vous iriez avec nous soumettre 1'or- 
gueil et l'opulence de Carthage, et prevenir par sa ruine 
les dangers de vos descendants et peut-etre les desastres de 
1'avenir. 

Mais cette alliance, si neeessaire et si glorieuse, qui le 
premier osera la proposer ? de quel cote Porgueil cedera-t- 
il ? laquelle s'abaissera, de la majeste royale ou de la fierte 
republicaine ? Grace aux dieux immortels, la question est 
enfin decidee : Pyrrhus vient d'acquerir par une victoire 
le droit de parler de la paix, et Rome, qui rougissait de la 
demander, pent la recevoir sans honte. C'est moins un 
bienfait que Pyrrhus ofFre qu'une recompense qu'il implore ; 
on ne dedaigne point pour allie celui qu'on estima comme 
ennemi, et le vainqueur d'Heraclee est digne d'etre citoyen 
de Rome. En meme temps, senateurs, songez que votre 
sagesse pent h&ter en ce jaur l'accomplissement de vos 
grandeurs et le$ destinees du Capitole,. 



POLIGNAC AUX DEPUTES HOLLANDAiS. 

1710 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Prtambule. — ^Le due de Marlborough, joint au prince 
Eugene de Savoie, avait abattu la puissance de Louis XIV, 
Apres les revers essuyes a Hochstett, a Ramillies, a Oute- 
narde, devant Turin, Louis XIV, voyant le triste etat ou la 
France etait reduite et les malheurs du peuple augmentes 
par les rigueur§ du fameux hiver de 1709, se resolut a de- 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 175 

mander la paix aux Hollandais qu ? il avait autrefois traites 
avec trop de hauteur. Ses ofFres furent recites avec mepris 
par les allies : ils exigerent, entre autres conditions, qu'il 
detronat lui-meme, dans 1'espace de deux mois, son petit-fils 
Philippe V, roi d'Espagne. Le roi fit une reponse noble 
et magnanime a cette outrageante proposition. Au com- 
mencement de 1710, apres la bataille de Malplaquet, il fit 
rouvrir les negociations. II proposait d'abandonner Stras- 
bourg, les villes de Flandre, de raser ses places frontieres, 
de combler le port de Dunkerque, enfin de reconnaitre 
Parchiduc pour roi d'Espagne et d'abandonner son petit-fils 
a sa propre fortune, Les deux plenipotentiaries francais 
furent le mar6chal d'Uxelles, et le eelebre abbe de Polignac. 
Les deputes hollandais leur donnerent audience dans 1$ 
petite ville de Gertrudenberg, 

Argument. — Polignac dira que le roi son maitre, touche de 
Tetat deplorable de la France, vient eneore une fois demander la 
paix. — II supplie les allies de faire cesser une guerre sanglante, 

II parlera des sueees precedents de la France, en adoueissant 
par des managements oratoires ce que ce souvenir pourrait avoir 
de choquant pour les allies. 

La fortune est changee. — Le roi espere que les vainqueurs 
useront avec quelque generosite de leur victoire. 

Louis fait a l'interet de son peuple tous les sacrifices qui sont 
compatibles avec Thonneur et la nature.-*— Mais peut-il, sans se 
deshonorer, s'armer contre son petit-fils ? 

Nulle paix ne saurait etre plus avantageuse que celle que 
Louis XIV propose aux nations confederees. — Que peuvent-elles 
vouloir de plus ? — Demembrer la France ? — Mais Pequilibre de 
PEurope veut qu'elle subsiste. — On ne peut faire disparaitre du 
monde un royaume comme la France. 

II finira en disant qu'il ne faut pas reduire au desespoir une 
nation genereuse, decidee a s'ensevelir avec son roi sous les 
debris du trone. — Qui salt mieux que le peuple des Provinces- 
Unies tout ce qu'on peut emprunter de force a une situation 
desesperee ? 

NARRATION ET DISCOURS. 

Louis XIV, pendant un regne de quarante annees, s'etait 
montre comme enviroane de tous les prestiges de la victoire 



176 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

et de la grandeur. II avait trouve la France dans cet etat 
d'effervescence qui suit d'ordinaire les grandes agitations 
politiques ; et, par la force de sa volonte, afFermissant, sans 
l'etouffer, cette energie nouvelle, il avait su la diriger et la 
faire servir aux projets de son ambition. II n'avait pas 
deguise son despotisme ; mais, a force de victoires, il avait 
rendu glorieux le joug qu'il imposait. Les courtisans, au 
theatre, applaudissaient aux maximes republicaines de 
Cinna ; mais a la cour, ils flechissaient devant le nouvel 
Auguste : Tesclavage m&me avait un air de grandeur. La 
Hollande vaincue, Rome bravee, Venise humiliee, Alger 
fbudroye, un Bourbon assis sur le trone d'Espagne ; tel 
etait l'imposant tableau que le regne de Louis XIV pre- 
sentait a. l'Europe etonnee. Une foule de grands homines 
dans tous les genres se pressaient autour du trone, et l'eclat 
de ce brillant cortege rejaillissait encore sur l'astre eclatant 
qui resplendissait au milieu d'eux. Pour lui, les arts adu- 
lateurs enfantaient chaque jour de nouveauix prodiges, le 
poete formait sur lui le portrait de tous ses heros, et la 
Prance, enivree de tant de gloire, lui avait donne le nom 
de grand, que l'Europe tremblante lui avait confirme. 

Mais tant de succes avaient en vain ravi Padmiration 
contemporaine : la posterite peut-etre aurait brise cette 
orgueilleuse idole ; peut-etre, pour associer Louis aux 
honneurs d' Alexandre, de Charlemagne et de Henri, la 
posterite plus severe aurait-elle juge qu'il ne suffisait pas 
d'un regne eclatant, mais sanguinaire, de conquetes bril- 
lantes, mais injustes. Ce titre de -grand, que Louis n'avait 
du qu'a. ses succes, le malheur le lui confirma ; et la sanc- 
tion d'une infortune noblement soutenue consacra ses pros- 
perites. La nature s'etait enfin fatiguee de tant d'efTorts ; 
et Louis, seul debris d'un regne, qui deja, pour ainsi dire, 
n'etait plus, avait survecu a. son siecle et a sa fortune. 
Philippe chanGelait sur le trone d'Espagne, un instant 
raffermi par la victoire inesperee d'Almanza. A Hochstett, 
la France avait perdu toutes ses conquetes ; a Ramillies, 
on avait combattu pour les frontieres memes du royaume ; 
et, dans la journee de Malplaquet, un autre Bedford sem- 
blait avoir ramene les temps d'Azincourt et de Poitiers. A 
son tour victorieuse, la Hollande insultait au faste d'une 
puissance tombee ; et gravant sur un orgueilleux airain ses 
recents triomphes, elle se vantait d 'avoir arrete dans sa 
course cet astre terni. Le vieux monarque, presque soli- 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 177 

taire au milieu de cette cour si brillante autrefois, tandis 
que tout ofFrait a ses regards le pompeux souvenir de ses 
victoires passees, apprenait a chaque instant la perte de ses 
generaux, la prise de ses villes, la deroute de ses armees. 
II demanda la paix : il humilia sa fierte devant ces memes 
Hollandais, si dedaignes quand ils n'etaient que libres et 
pauvres. Les Etats-Generaux nommerent des deputes qui 
allerent attendre a Gertrudenberg les envoyes francais ; 
le marechal d'Uxelles et Pabbe de Polignac, charges de 
cette mission difficile, entrerent en conference avec les 
deputes hollandais, et Pabbe de Polignac prit ainsi la 
parole : 

" Messieurs, il est glorieux sans doute de s'obstiner contre 
les revers, et cette opiniatrete de resistance, dont la Hol- 
lande etonna le siecle dernier, merite a jamais Padmiration 
des hommes : il etait beau d'opposer au despotisme les 
efforts sans cesse renaissants d'une liberte tantot victorieuse, 
tantot corame ecrasee sous les debris fumants de vos villes, 
et toujours sortant du sein des ruines, infatigable, intrepide, 
prete a chercher de nouvelles victoires, a braver de nou- 
veaux revers. Mais, si un peuple libre s'honore de cette 
lutte obstinee contre la tyrannie, pour un roi, pere de son 
peuple, il est une gloire plus belle ; c'est de ceder a la 
fortune. Le roi mon maitre donne aujourd'hui ce rare et 
penible exemple ; il fait au bonheur de ses sujets le sacri- 
fice de sa gloire ; ou plutot, il met sa gloire a assurer leur 
felicite. Si Pbonneur du guerrier permettait ce sacrifice, 
Phonneur du monarque en fesait un imperieux devoir. 
La France epuisee par ses victoires passees et ses revers 
presents, en proie aux horreurs d'une desastreuse disette, a 
eleve vers le trone une voix suppliante : Louis a entendu 
ses gemissements, et son ame genereuse a ete profonde- 
ment emue de tant de calf -mites. Assez grand pour ne pas 
craindre de s'abaisser, il demande encore une fois la paix ; 
il ne rougit pas du malheur de ses armes, puisqu'il a les 
Hollandais pour ennemis, et ne desespere pas de sa fortune, 
puisque les Francais sont ses sujets. 

" Helas ! il fut un temps ou nous etions loin de prevoir 
qu'il nous faudrait un jour fonder nos esperances sur la 
generosite de nos ennemis ! Nos prosperites constantes 
semblaient nous garantir de nouvelles prosperites ; et des 
armees invaincues paraissaient invincibles. Nous ne pou- 
vions rien voir qu'a travers le prisme eblouissant de la for- 



178 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

tune : qu'une guerre fut legerement entreprise, qu'une 
agression fut peu motivee, nous n'osions douter de la justice 
de nos armes, quand la victoire, en les favorisant, semblait 
avoir pris soin de nous justifier. Les brillantes illusions 
epaississaient sur nos yeux leur bandeau, et, si nos regards 
se detachaient du spectacle pompeux de nos grandeurs pre- 
sentes, c'etait pour parer l'avenir des grandeurs nouvelles 
que revait notre orgueil victorieux. Ah ! messieurs, qu'il est 
difficile de resister a cet enivrement de la prosperite ! Pour 
les peuples, cornme pour les hommes, la prosperite est une 
epreuve plus difficile que l'infortune. Et nous aussi, peut- 
etre, trop seduits par des reves de gloire et de grandeur, et 
mollement berces par la fortune, avons-nous trop longtemps 
ferme les yeux sur des realites moins flatteuses !" 

Que le reveil a ete soudain et terrible ! Eh ! quand il 
serait vrai que l'Europe ait gemi sous le poids de notre 
grandeur, tant de revers enfin n'ont-ils pas du nous ab- 
soudre ! A votre tour, messieurs, craignez de vous laisser 
entralner par le prestige de la victoire : usez avec modera- 
tion de vos succes, et montrez-vous ainsi dignes d 'avoir 
vaincu. Ce n'est pas chez un peuple libre qu'un calcul 
mercantile d'interet doit prevaloir sur les sentiments gene- 
reux ; mais ecoutez cet interet meme : puissants aujour- 
d'hui, songez a mettre votre fortune a l'abri des revers. 
Songez que c'est en n'abusant jamais de la victoire que 
vous pourrez la fixer sous vos etendards, ou du moins vous 
mettre en etat de ne pas craindre ses vicissitudes. Vous 
avez fait assez pour votre gloire et pour votre grandeur ; 
craignez d'etre Finstrument d'une ambition etrangere, et 
d'elever de vos propres mains l'edifice d'une puissance qui 
tot ou tard deviendra dangereuse pour la votre. Vous vous 
etes armes, dites-vous, contre le despotisme dictatorial de 
Louis XIV ; mais voyez la mer couverte de vaisseaux 
anglais ; voyez ces flottes dominatrices de l'Ocean, et 
appelant la fortune des bouts de l'univers ; voyez ces 
armees nombreuses cantonnees au sein de nos villes, et ce 
parlement orgueilleux remerciant son heros des victoires 
que vous avez achetees au prix de votre sang ; voyez ce 
Francais transfuge donnant des ordres a vos soldats, et 
combattant avec vous pour les interets de son maitre. Ne 
craignez-vous pas de relever de vos propres mains le colosse 
tombe de la maison d'Autriche, et d'imposer a PEurope et 
a vous-memes le joug de l'insulaire 2 II fut un temps, 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 179 

messieurs, ou la Hollande disputait a PAngleterre le sceptre 
maritime, et ne versait pas son sang pour la maison d'Au- 
triche ! Que les Anglais nous haissent, qu'ils nous com- 
battent, leur politique l'exige ; et leur ambition doit s'armer 
contre le peuple qui seul en Europe peut la reprimer. 

Mais, si Louis a defendu par les armes le choix libre 
d'un monarque et de ses sujets, peut-on accuser son ambi- 
tion ? peut-on la craindre apres tant de revers ? peut-on la 
soupconner enfin, quand Louis, pour obtenir la paix, ne 
repousse aucun sacrifice ? Oui, messieurs, le roi mon 
maitre court au devant de la paix. L'humanite et Pinteret 
de son peuple l'exigent : il le reconnait, et n'a plus d'autre 
ambition que le desir de rendre la paix a PEurope et le 
repos a ses sujets. A cette ambition il sacrifie ses con- 
quetes, ses droits, sa famille meme. II renonce a la souve- 
rainete de P Alsace ; il consent a raser toutes ses places 
depuis Bale jusqu'a. Philipsbourg.; a detruire les fortifica- 
tions de Dunkerque et a combler ce port si longtemps re- 
doutable. II laisse aux Etats-Generaux Lille, Tournai, 
Ypres, Conde, Maubeuge, et leur territoire ; il rend les 
villes de Strasbourg et de Brisach : enfin il ofFre de recon- 
nattre Parchiduc pour roi d*Espagne, et (sacrifice plus 
penible pour son grand cceur) il promet de ne pas secourir 
le roi d'Espagne, son petit-fils, et de Pabandonner a sa for- 
tune. Des places qu'il doit donner en garantie et sa parole 
royale repondront de sa fidelite a. remplir ses engagements. 
Est-ce la, dites-moi, ce despote intraitable qui reve encore 
l'asservissement de l'Europe ? est-ce la cet orgueil qui se 
revoke contre Tidee de tout sacrifice ? Ah ! si Louis a 
repousse des conditions que ni Phonneur, ni la nature ne 
lui permettaient pas d'accepter, faut-il en accuser sa fierte ? 
et ne sont-ils pas coupables de ce refus ceux qui, ambitieux 
de poursuivre la guerre, proposent a. un roi de France la 
honte de son trone et le deshonneur de son peuple ? Eh 
quoi ! Louis peut-il, de son autorite, faire descendre son 
petit-fils d'un trone ou il ne Pa pas fait monter, ou Pont 
appele les libres suffrages du peuple espagnol, ou le main- 
tient Pamour de ses sujets? Doit-il done s'armer contre 
lui ? Se reunir aux eternels ennemis de la France pour 
combattre un peuple qui, loin de Pattaquer, vient d'honorer 
sa famille et son trone par un choix glorieux ? Et quel 
droit aurait-il d'attenter a la liberte de la Peninsule ? Quel 
droit aurait-il de lui imposer un nouveau maftre ? et, s'il 



180 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* 

eonsentait a ce deshotiileiir, s J il airciait mieiix faire 1st guerfe 
a ses enfants qu'a ses ennemis \ les Francais le suivraient- 
ils contre tin prince du sang royal de France ? Pas plus 
sans doute quails n'auraient suivi notre Henri-le-Grand, si 
le premier article du traite de Vervins eut arrae la France 
contre la liberte de la Hollande. 

Que veulent-ils done de plus, ces hommes insatiables de 
combats, dont les propositions de paix sont des outrages et 
des declarations de guerre ? Et, fussent-ils encore cent 
fois victorieux, que peuvent-ils demander davantage ? Vou- 
draient-ils detroner Louis ? Ont-ils un autre archiduc 
pretendant a. la couronne de France ? Mais, quand ils 
parviendraient a la lui placer sur la tete, croyez-vous que 
les Francais ne reclameraient pas bientot, les armes a la 
main, leurs souverains legitimes ? Croyez-vous qu'ils sup- 
porteraient longtemps une dynastie que l'etranger leur 
aurait imposee ? La moderation de nos ennemis se con- 
tente-t-elle de vouloir demembrer la France ? Mais croyez- 
moi, messieurs, cette esperance n'est pas moins illusoire. 
Quand un de nos rois, prisonnier dans Madrid, consentit a. 
ceder une de ses provinces pour sa rancon, il ne fut pas 
maitre de tenir sa parole ;. et les Bourguignons declarerent 
qu'ils ne consentiraient jamais a. cesser d'etre Francais 
pour devenir Allemands. En vain la France, cent fois 
terrassee, serait-elle partagee entre ses ennemis, en vain 
imposerait-on aux vaincus les lois, les moeurs, le nom meme 
du vainqueur : sujets de l'Angleterre ou de l'Empire, ils 
se souviendraient qu'ils sont Francais et rien ne pourrait 
les contraintre a l'oublier. On ne force point, croyez-moi, 
la volonte ferme d'une nation ; et e'est en vain que tous 
les peuples de l'univers tenteraient de faire peser sur nos 
tetes un joug deshonoranf: ce joug serait brise. Pour faire 
disparattre du monde une puissance comme la France, il 
faudrait exterminer tous les Francais. Ce n'est qu'apres 
avoir foule le cadavre du dernier de ses citoyens, que nos 
ennemis pourraient se vanter d'avoir conquis la France. 
Et que leur servirait de 1'avoir conquise ? De combien de 
combats, de calamites, de desastres, cette conquete ne serait- 
elle pas le signal ? II faudrait se disputer le fer en main 
les lambeaux de cette proie sanglante ; et la puissance que 
le sort des armes aurait favorisee ne serait-elle pas bientot 
l'effroi de l'Eurqpe et de la liberte ? La France seule a 
maintenu xlepuis bien des siecles cet equilibre si necessaire 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 181 

au repos de la Chretiente ; la France seule, protectrice du 
faible, effroi de l'usurpateur, a toujours interpose une me- 
diation armee entre les ambitions rivales de tant de souve- 
rains. Ici, elle opposait une digue insurmontable aux 
progres de Charles-Quint ; la, elle arretait Philippe II ; et, 
malgre la fureur de ses discordes intestines, elle protegeait 
votre liberie naissante. Cette liberie, messieurs, la France, 
qui vous a aides a la conquerir, peut seule vous la con- 
server : et vous la perdrez des que le bruit de la ruine de 
la France donnera le signal a 1'ambition desormais sans 
frein d'une puissance ennemie 

Mais, que dis-je ? : non, messieurs, tel n'est pas le sort 
qui nous attend. Ah ! si ces braves defenseurs du trone 
et de la patrie avaient pu m'entendre, ils auraient dementi 
mes discours. " Non, se seraient-ils ecries, non, le trone 
" n'est pas ebranle, puisque vingt millions de sujets fideles 
" se pressent encore autour de ce trone vainement menace. 
" Et, <quand l'ennemi viendrait sous les murs de Paris 
" signaler les sanglants anniversaires de Hochstett et de 
" Ramillies par des victoires nouvelles, il nous resterait 
" encore notre patriotisme et notre desespoir !" 

Croyez-moi, messieurs, ne reduisez pas les Francais a 
faire l'epreuve de ces terribles armes ; vous avez triomphe 
de notre prosperite : vous ne triompheriez pas de notre in- 
fortune. Ce n'est pas a vous, Hollandais, d'ignorer tout ce 
que le desespoir peut preter de force a ceux qui combattent 
pour une cause sacree. Et vous aussi, vous £^ez vu 
l'ennemi victorieux insulter a votre detresse ; vous l'avez 
vu, fier de ses triomphes, promener son orgueil tranquille 
dans ces champs, d'ou la liberte fugitive s'etait un instant 
exilee pour y reparaitre plus forte et plus redoutable : les 
vainqueurs fletrissaient d'un nom injurieux ceux dont le 
malheur avait condamne les nobles efforts. Le sort a 
change pour vous : et nous aussi nous le verrons changer, 
puisque, comme vous, nous defendons contre l'etranger nos 
lois, notre liberte, notre honneur. 

MEME SUJET. 

Vous avez vaincu, messieurs ; partout vos armes triom- 
phent : chasses de l'ltalie, de la Flandre, de l'Allemagne, 
nos soldats sont reduits a defendre nos frontieres envahies ; 
accables a la fois par le destin et l'infortune, en proie aux 
maux de l'invasion et de la famine, les Francais sont 
16 



182 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

plonges dans le deuil et la consternation, et la France 
entiere, dans une penible incertitude, contemple ce qu'elle 
fut, ce qu'elle est, et elle craint de prevoir le sort qui 
Fattend. Jouissez de votre victoire, messieurs. Vous 
vouliez abaisser Louis : il demande la paix ; vous vouliez 
venger vos defaites : nos armees, qui campaient naguere 
sur les bords du Danube, vont etre bientot reduites a defendre 
les rives de la Somme. Deja, il y a un an, Louis vous de- 
mandait la paix ; touche des malheurs de son peuple, il 
fesait le sacrifice de sa gloire et de ses conquetes ; a la vue 
des calamites de la France, il oubliait ses succes, il avouait 
sa faiblesse, il vous conjurait de donner enfin le repos a son 
peuple. Vous le refusates, messieurs ; vous le recutes en 
vainqueurs irrites, et la France, etonnee de voir son roi de- 
mander vainement la paix ; malheureuse, mais fiere et re- 
signee, soutint encore pendant une annee le fardeau d'une 
guerre deplorable. 

Aujourd'hui, Louis nous envoie de nouveau demander 
jusques a quand vous voulez que l'Europe soit embrasee du 
feu de la guerre, et ses peuples tour a tour ravages l'un par 
1'autre. Ah ! messieurs, le sang ne coule-t-il pas depuis 
assez longtemps ? nos revers et nos triomphes mutuels 
n'ont-ils pas assez ensanglante la terre ? l'ambition et la 
vengeance n'ont-elles pas cause tour a tour assez de ca- 
lamites ? Les guerres naitront-elles sans cesse des guerres, 
les revers des victoires ? Peut-on encore aimer a vaincre, 
en contemplant la France, ses succes et ses malheurs ? 
Peut-etre me sied.il mal de rappeler nos prosperites, de re- 
tracer ces temps ou, partout heureux et respectes, nous 
voyions nos drapeaux flotter dans les champs de l'AUe- 
magne et de l'ltalie ; ces temps ou la nation, enivree de ses 
triomphes, jouissait avec orgueil de la gloire de son roi. 
Qui eut pu resister a l'ivresse generale ? qui n'eut partage 
des transports qu'approuvait l'amour de la patrie ? Nos 
poetes celebraient nos guerriers ; les arts multipliaient les 
monuments de nos victoires. La pompe des conquetes, les 
hommages de l'Europe, reduite a. admirer en silence, tout 
seduisait et decevait nos yeux. A travers tant de pros- 
perites, pouvions-nous apercevoir une tardive et funeste 
expiation ? Charmes du present, pouvions-nous croire aux 
maux de l'avenir ? Heureux aujourd'hui, messieurs, si, 
plus sages que nous, vous savez garder, au milieu de vos 
triomphes, crette moderation si belle, mais si rare ; si vous 



COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 183 

etes reserves a dormer au monde 1'exemple de vainqueurs 
s'arretant tout a coup au milieu de leurs succes, et mon- 
trant que ce n'est pas Pambition qui leur fit prendre les 
armes ! Vous verrez PEurope admirer votre generosite, 
vous decerner le nom de pacificateurs ; la France elle- 
meme rendre hommage a ses vainqueurs, et tous les peuples, 
deposant a la fois leurs armes et leur haine, se delasser 
dans le sein de la paix d'une guerre longue et desas- 
treuse. 

Aceoutume depuis trente ans a. combattre avec vous, 
Louis croit a votre generosite. Vous avez montre jusqu'ici 
que vous saviez repousser et venger vos injures ; montrez 
que vous savez les oublier. Vous pouvez aujourd'hui ac- 
corder la paix et dieter les conditions, n'etre que justes et 
paraitre genereux, servir a la fois vos interets et votre 
gloire : que voulez-vous de plus ? Hors Phonneur et la 
nature, Louis sacrifie tout au repos de son peuple. Vous 
voyiez avec jalousie PItalie et la Flandre envahies par nos 
armes : Louis renonce a ces conquetes, ache*tees jadis par 
tant de travaux et tant de sang ; Dunkerque importunait 
les Anglais : Louis va faire combler ce port, monument de 
la grandeur de son regne ; les Bourbons assis au trone 
d'Espagne vous inquietent et vous troublent : Louis recon- 
natt Parchiduc, et abandonne son petit-fils a sa fortune. 
Mais n'exigez rien de plus : ne demandez pas qu'un pere 
aille s'armer lui-meme contre ses enfants, et trahisse a v la 
fois l'honneur et la nature. La France ne vous a-t-elle pas 
deja repondu ? N'avez-vous pas vu Pindignation ranimer 
nos courages abattus, et nous soutenir contre toute une 
armee au milieu de nos penibles epreuves ? Vous avez pu 
nous vaincre, messieurs ; mais jamais vous ne pourrez nous 
deshonorer, et ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui que la France 
sait se consoler de ses revers, en songeant qu'il lui reste 
Phonneur. Eh quoi ! vous voulez qu'on voie d'un cote 
Louis XIV, devenu le servile instrument de la haine etran- 
gere, aller dans une guerre impie consacrer son avilisse- 
ment, et de Pautre, un fils, rougissant de la honte de 
son pere, craindre a la fois la victoire et la defaite ! 
Ainsi, vous nous accordez la paix au prix de la guerre 
civile. Ainsi, fatiguee de nous combattre, votre haine veut 
nous aneantir par nos propres mains, et nous enlever 
jusqu'a la triste consolation de perir glorieusement ? Ah ! 
si la paix est a ce prix, Louis vous a deja repondu, 



184 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

messieurs ; et, s'il faut faire la guerre, il aime mieux la 
faire a ses ennemis qu'a ses enfants. 

Nous\en gemirons sans doute, je ne veux pas vous le 
cacher, je ne veux pas vous dissimuler notre faiblesse ; 
mais l'Europe plaindra peut^etre aussi votre aveuglement : 
elle s'etonnera de voir des princes et des peuples oublier 
leurs interets pour le soin de leur vengeance, et laisser 
echapper l'occasion d'une paix utile et glorieuse. Eh ! 
pourquoi continuer la guerre, messieurs ? pourquoi exposer 
votre fortune a la chance des combats, quand la paix peut 
tout a coup assurer vos prosperites ? Que voulez-vous de 
plus ? demembrer la France ? 'Peut-etre je m'abuse, mais 
le pouvez-vous ? et si vous le pouvez, l'interet ne vous de- 
fehd-il pas de l'entreprendre ? l'equilibre de l'Europe vous 
permet-il d'aneantir la France ? Vous avez pris les armes 
pour le maintenir : ne les poserez-vous qu'apres l'avoir 
renverse ? La puissance et 1'ambition de Louis effrayaient 
naguere les peuples voisins ; mais qu'est-elle aujourd'hui ? 
Faible et instruit par le malheur, est-il encore ambitieux ? 
le peut-il etre % Messieurs, le systeme politique adopte 
maintenant par l'Europe ne permet plus de ces conquerants 
qui elevent et detruisent les empires. On reprime 1'ambi- 
tion d'un Etat qui menace l'independance de ses voisins ; 
mais on ne le detruit pas, parce que le vainqueur lui-meme, 
en augmentant sa puissance, augmenterait ses dangers, et 
verrait bientot ses allies ehercher a restreindre cette puis- 
sance : la moderation, toujours honorable, est maintenant 
necessaire. C'est surtout aujourd'hui que les vainqueurs 
doivent craindre l'ivresse d'u succes, et respecter la faiblesse 
pour leur honneur et leur interet. Vous les connaissez 
bien, messieurs, ces principes consacres en Europe ; vous 
les reclamates jadis contre la puissance de Louis : pourquoi 
ne pas vous en souvenir pour soutenir sa faiblesse ? Verrez- 
vous toujours ce que nous fumes et non ce que nous 
somrnes ? Pourquoi, dans votre aveuglement, demander 
encore compte a la France de sa puissance passee ? Nos 
campagnes sont desertes, nos villes depeuplees ; a peine 
nous reste-t-il une armee pour defendre nos frontieres ; et 
vous nous craignez encore ! Non, messieurs, vous n'avez 
plus rien a craindre de la France ; nous avons trop souffert 
pour courir encore apres la gloire des combats ; faibles et 
malheureux, nous ne demandons que le repos. Mais 
gardez-vous de croire eependant que notre faiblesse voua 






NARRATIONS, LETTRES, D1SCOURS. 185 

donne le pouvoir de tout oser impunement ; nous sommes 
vaincus, messieurs ; mais il nous reste encore ce que la 
fortune ne peut enlever a la France, le courage du deses- 
poir. Oui, je vous le declare, nous ne pouvons plus en 
appeler qu'au desespoir : c'est la seule ressource qui nous 
reste ; ressource horrible, sans doute, mais puissante. 
Nous sommes prets. Ce ne sont plus des rois jaloux Pun 
de l'autre, ce ne sera plus l'ambition d'un prince heurtant 
1'ambition d'un autre prince : ce sera un peuple, irrite d'un 
acharnement implacable, defendant avec opiniatrete sa 
gloire et son independance, resolu a. s'ensevelir sous les 
debris du trone, a perir s'il le faut, mais en cherchant a 
venger sa ruine. 



ARGUMENTS* 



MORT DE MOISE.— -1452 ans avant j.-c. 

Le jour etait venu oil le liberateur d'Israel devait mourir. 

Douleur des Hebreux. — Moise leur rappelle les bienfaits du 
Seigneur. — II leur annonee qu'ils touchent a la terre promise. 

Pour lui, sa tache est remplie ; Dieu, dans sa colere, ne 
l'admet point au partage des biens reserves a son peuple. — C'est 
Josue qui va conduire les Israelites dans Theritage de leurs peres. 

Moise s'avance alors sur le sommetdu Nebo. — Bientot le bruit 
de la foudre annonce sa mort au peuple consterne. 



LE JEUNE ANGLAIS ET LE VIEILLARD. 

Un jeune Anglais d'une haute naissance, fatigue des plaisirs 
bruyants de Londres, fut attaque du spleen. — Vous decrirez les 
effets de cetle maladie. 

II alia un jour a Hyde-Park avec la resolution de mettre fin a 
ses jours. — II s'assit sous un arbre, et ecrivit quelques lignes au 
crayon. — Puis appuya un pistolet contre son front et tira ; mais 
le coup manqua. — Un vieillard, qui ramassait du bois mort, 
s'elance sur le jeune homme et essaie de le desarmer. — Le jeune 
homme resiste et veut frapper son liberateur. — Le vieillard de- 
clare qu'il ne craint pas la mort, mais qu'il sait supporter la vie, 
16* 



186 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

et qu'apres soixante ans de misere, il laisse a Dieu seul le soio 
de mettre un terme a ses maux. 

Cette lecon inattendue fait une telle impression sar ce jeune 
homme, qu'il remercie le vieillard, lui donne sa bourse et Jul 
promet d'avoir soin de sa famille. 

Vous finirez par quelques reflexions morales. 



LETTRE DTJN GENERAL A UNE DAME. 

II annoncera la victoire, mais en meme temps, la mort d'un 
officier dont ii fera un eloge pompeux et merite. 

Sans le nommer, il dira qu'il verse des larmes sur la mort de 
son ami, et qu'il n'a pas le courage de conseiller a une mere de 
ne pas pleurer son fils. 

II donnera a cette malheureuse mere des consolations en lui 
racontant la maniere glorieuse dont son fils a trouve la mort en 
combattant. 

II rapportera les dernieres paroles du mourant ; elles seront 
pour sa mere. 

II terminera par de nouveaux motifs de consolation puise& 
dans la force d'ame et dans la religion. 



GUILLAUME TELL. 

Vous direz que Guiilaume Tell, laboureur helvetien, n'avaii 
d'autre plaisir que de faire du bien. — II ensemencait les champs 
de ses amis indigents. — II s'imposait les plus rudes travaux pour 
soulager les infortunes et partager avec eux ses moissons. 

Les forces de son corps repondaient aux belles qualites de son 
ame. — Les jours de fete, il etait toujours vainqueur a lancer 
la fleche. — Signalant son adresse dans cette sorte d'exercice, il 
abattait la colombe placee au haul d'un mat. — Les juges 
etonnes lui decernaient le prix. 

Vous finirez en racontant Tanecdote celebre que tout le monde 
conn ait. 



LETTRE DE FONTENELLE A UN DE SES AMIS. 
II lui dediera les Dialogues des Morts qu'il a composes sur le 
modele des dialogues de Lucien.. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOtTRS. 187 

ll parlera de son ouvrage avec modestie, et en attribuera toute 
la gloire a l'auteur grec. 

II ajoutera que, corarae Lucien, il s'est propose, dans chaque 
dialogue, un but moral. 

II s'est attache a rendre les morts reconnaissables, du moins 
ceux qui sont fort connus. 

II terminera par l'eloge de Lucien* 



LES PRISONNIERS ESPAGNOLS. 

En 1811, pendant Pinvasion de 1'armee francaise en Espagne, 
il y avait a Dijon un grand nombre de prisonniers espagnols. — ■ 
Vous peindrez la tristesse de ces infortunes, eloignes du beau ciel 
de leur patrie. — Une maladie epidemique s'etant declaree parmi 
eux, ils furent tous mis ensemble dans un hopital— le zele des 
medecins de la ville ne pouvait suffire au nombre des malades. 

Le feu prit a l'hopital. — Mais les habitants de Dijon crai- 
gnaient d'etre atteints par la contagion, s*ils osaient porter secours 
aces pauvres malheureux. — Le prefet, Le Couteux de Mole, pro- 
pose en vain les plus brillantes recompenses. — II s'elance lui- 
merae a travers lesflammes, rapporte un malade, ets'elance une 
'seconde fois. — Son exemple inspire Tenthousiasme et encourage 
k Pheroisme. — Le feu est eteint, les malades sont sauves* 

Le lendemain on apprit la mort du prefet. 

Vous finirez en adressant des eloges a ce digne magistrate 



UN NUMIDE DfiCRIT LES MCEURS DE SA PATRIE. 

II commencera par Peloge de la simplicite, et dira que le bon» 
lieur consiste a vivre dans une douce obscurite. 

II ajoutera qu'il est ne parmi les peuples pasteurs qui, sans 
villes, habitent sous des tentes avec leurs troupeaux. — Ces peuples 
descendent des premiers Arabes, qui, apres avoir vaincu les 
peuples, releguerent les vaincus dans les villes, et ne garderent 
que les campagnes. 

II louera le code de leurs lois qui se reduit a cette maxime 5 
Sois heureux, sans nuire a personne. 

Leurs biens consistent en chameaux et en brebis. — Ils de~ 
daignent Tor et TargenU 



188 NEW ZETETtC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

La paix, l'amitie, la Concorde regnent dans chaque famille.-— 
La religion est honoree. — lis exercent l'hospitalite. — lis par- 
tagent leur repas avec les etrangers et les malheureux. 



LA LIONNE DE FLORENCE. 

Vous raconterez une visite a la menagerie de Florence. — Yobs 
decrirez les principaux animaux qui composent cette menagerie. 
— Vous remarquerez surtout une lionne avec ses jeunes lion- 
ceaux. — Cette lionne s'echappe de sa cage. — Vous decrirez 
Feffroi et i'epouvante des spectateurs. 

Dans ce desordre, une mere laisse tomber son enfant qu'elle 
portait dans ses bras. — La lionne le saisit. — " Rends-moi mon 
fils !" s'ecrie la mere eperdue. 

La lionne regarde un instant cette femme suppliante. — Ru- 
gissements des lionceaux.— La lionne pose doucement Tenfant a 
terre, et retourne aupres d'eux. 

Vous finirez par quelques reflexions sur Finstinct des animaux. 



COMBAT DU TAUREAU. 

L'amphitheatre est rempli de spectateurs.— Quatre cavaliers 
viennent dans la lice.— lis sont pares de riches echarpes. — Le 
matador, celui qui doit porter le dernier coup au taureau est au 
centre de Farene, a pied, et n'est arme que d'un javelot. 

L'animal est lance hors de son antre. — Les cavaliers l'at- 
taquent. — Le taureau est blesse, — il rugit. — II renverse un cheval 
et redouble de fureur. — II s'elance sur un des assaillants qui 
lui abandonne son manteau rouge. — La tete de Tanimal est em- 
barrassee dans les plis du manteau. — Les cavaliers attaquent le 
taureau de tous cotes. — II succombe.— On l'emporte sur un char. 
■ — Applaudissements de la foule. 



DISCOURfS DU MARTYR LUCIEN.— 303 ans apres j.-c. 

Vous raconterez que Lucien, martyr sous le regne de 
Diocletien, etait conduit par les parens a Nicomedie, 
lorsqu'il rencontra quelques soldats qui, par lachete, avaient 
apostasie. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 189 

II leur reprochera vivement leur lache desertion. — Etaient-ils 
done mecontents de servir sous Jesus-Christ ? — Esperent-ils 
tromper les regards de leur Dieu ? — Sa vengeance les poursuivra 
et saura les atteindre au sein meme du palais de Pempereur. 

II demandera comment des guerriers, endurcis aux fatigues et 
aux perils des combats, ont pu ceder a la crainte, tandis que tous 
les jours des vieillards et de jeunes vierges donnent l'exemple 
d'une fermete inebranlable. 

Qu'ils le suivent, s'ils ont encore des sentiments d'honneur ; 
ils verront, par l'exemple d'un vieillard, toute la force que peut 
donner a Phomme Pappui de Jesus-Christ. 



DISCOURS DE LA MERE DES MACHABEES AU PLUS 
JEUNE DE SES FILS. 

Elle commence par lui rappeler l'exemple de ses freres. — Ils 
sont maintenant dans le ciel. — Ils Pattendent. — Une felicite 
eternelle est-elle achetee trop cherement par des douleurs d'un 
instant 1 — Prefererait-il renier son Dieu et vivre a la cour de 
celui qui a ete le bourreau de ses freres et qui le sera bientot de 
sa mere ? — Non. 

Elle fink en l'exhortant a ne pas se laisser effrayer par les apprets 
du supplice. — La mort, e'est un instant. — Le ciel e'est toujours. 



CfOMBAT SINGULIER DE MEROVEE 

ET D 5 UN CHEF GAULOIS. — 450 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Vous direz que Merovee, chef ou roi des Francs, avait fait un 
massacre epouvantable des Gaulois. — Vous depeindrez Pexte- 
rieur de Merovee qui domine de toute la tete tous ses compagnons 
d'armes. — Description de Pappareil guerrier qui environne Me- 
rovee que vous comparerez au dieu de la guerre. 

Le chef des Gaulois apercoit Merovee et le provoque au com- 
bat.— -Le roi des Francs accepte le defi. — Leur combat en pre- 
sence des deux armees. — La victoire est longtemps indecise. — 
Mort du Gaulois. — Triomphe des Francs. * 



INCENDIE D'UNE FORET. 

Vous direz qu'au-dessus de la foret s'eleve un amas de sombres 
nuages, dont les flancs portent la tempete. — Vous peindrez les 



190 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

eclairs, et le tonnerre qui tombe sur un pin et laisse a la cime de 
Parbre une etincelle. 

Vous deerirez les progres de l'incendie, qui s'etend d'abord de 
branche en branche, puis d'arbre en arbre. — Les oiseaux effrayes 
fuient leurs nids. — Les betes feroces quittent leur taniere. — Les 
habitants des villages voisins accourent en foule pour considerer 
rembrasement. 

Vous terminerez par les reflexions que doit fournir un tel acci- 
dent. 



MORT D'AGRIPPINE. 

Neron, impatient de se delivrer de la tutelle et des reprocbes 
d'Agrippine, commence par eviter sa mere. — II delibere sur les 
moyens d'accomplir le parricide qu'il medite. — Barbare expe- 
dient d'Anicet, prefet de la flotte romaine, qui fait disposer pour 
une fete navale un vaisseau qui devait s'entr'ouvrir. 

Profonde dissimulation de l'empereur pourdetruire lessoupcons 
de sa mere. — L'execution avorte. — Agrippine est sauvee. — Ter- 
reur de Neron. — II consulte ses deux gouverneurs, Burrhus et 
Seneque. — Le premier repond qu'il commande a des soldals, et 
non a des assassins. — II renvoie Neron a Anicet. — Celui-ci ne 
balance pas. — Joie feroce de Neron en apprenant la mort de sa 
mere. — II dit qu'il ne regne que de ce jour. 



GEDEON A SES TROIS CENTS SOLDATS. 

Soldats, celui qui fait tomber les empires et qui les releve 
quand il veut,qui perd etqui sauve, quiote la vie etqui ressuscite, 
vous a choisis pour delivrer son peuple, &c. &c. 

II les exborte a etre sans crainte et a mettre leur confiance 
dans celui qui protegea les Israelites contre l'armee de Pharaon. 
— Dieu les a choisis au nombre de trois cents, afin qu'ils sussent 
que lui seul donne la victoire. 

Les Madianites meltent leur confiance dans le nombre. — Les 
Israelites doivent mettre leur confiance dans la puissance de leur 

Dieu Executez Tordre qu'il vous a donne. — Les ennemis, 

effrayes par ce nouveau genre de combat, tourneront lefcrs armes 
contre eux-raemes. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, 'dISCOURS. 191 

LETT RE DU PRINCE EUGENE AU ROI DE BAVIERE. 

Le prince Eugene annonce a son beau-pere que les belles 
propositions que sa Majeste lui a faites, ne changeront pas sa 
determination de rester au service de Napoleon et de la France. 
— II se plaint qu'on a pu penser qu'il etait capable de forfaire 
a Phonneur. — II est insensible aux offres qu'on lui fak. — II ne se 
souvient que des bienfaits de l'empereur a qui ii doit tout. — II 
le servira toujours. — Puisse son epee se briser si, Sfc. 8fc. 
Q espere que ce refus lui assurera Pestime de sa Majeste. 



SOPHOCLE ACCUSE PAR SES FILS INGRATS. 

Les enfants de Sopbocle, las d'attendre son heritage et im pa- 
tients de sa longue vieillesse, demanderent son interdiction a 
PAreopage d'Athenes, sous pretexte que la tete de leur pere etait 
affaiblie. — Le vieillard, pour toute defense, demanda aux juges la 
permission de leur lire la derniere piece qu'il venait d'aehever.— 
Cette permission lui fut accordee. — L'illustre vieillard leur lut 
son GEdipe a Colonne, ouvrage qui devait confondre doublement 
ses accusateurs, puisqu'il y represente un pere depouille par 
ses fits ingrats. — II semblait qu'un sentiment secret eut dicte a 
Sopbocle sa propre bistoire. 

Vous depeindrez Penthousiasme que cette lecture produisit. — 
Sopbocle fut reconduit chez lui en triomphe. — Ses flls repentants 
implorerent leur pardon. — Sopbocle, plus indulgent qu'CEdipe, 
pardonna a ses enfants. 



LES VEPRES SICILIENNES. 

Jean de Procida, gentilhomme sicilien, communique a ses 
compatriotes sa haine contre les Francais. — II engage les nobles 
et les militaires a se rendre a Palerme pour dinger un mouve- 
ment populaire. 

Le lundi de Paques, les habitants, selon Pusage, se rendent en 
procession a Peglise de Mont-Real, situee hors de la ville. — 
Defense qu'on avait faite aux Siciliens d'avoir des armes.— 
Pendant la fete, un Francais, nomme Drouet, insulte une jeune 
fiancee.— Massacre general des Francais qui se trouvent sur les 
lieux. — Le massacre recommence dans la ville. — II a egalement 



192 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

lieu dans d'autres localites.— Les habitants de Catalasino sauvent 
ie venerable Guillaume des Porcelets, leur gouverneur* 



SYLLA AUX ROMAINS, EN ABDiaUANT LA 
DICTATURE. 

Romains, dans ce grand jour Sylla vous montrera qu'il etait 
digne d'etre votre dictateur. — Je vous dois, je me dois a moi- 
meme de vous rendre compte de ma dictature. 

II trace le tableau de Rome menacee par Jugurtha et Mithri- 
date. — II vainquit ces deux rois. — II soumit ensuite la Grece 
entiere. — Mais Rome, en proie aux factions interieures, expirait 
sous les coups de ses propres enfants. — 11 usurpa la dictature pour 
sauver sa patrie.— II exerca de cruelles rigueurs, mais il sacrifia 
ces victimes a la surete de PEtat. 

Maintenant, il est plus fatigue de sa dictature que les Romains 
eux-memes. — Guide par sa conscience, il abdique le pouvoir que 
les circonstances Pavaient force d'usurper. — II ordonne a ses 
licteurs de s'eloigner. — II depose les insignes de la dictature. 

Dans une touchante apostrophe aux Romains, il engage ceux 
de ses concitoyens qui croient avoir le droit de se plaindre de sa 
cruauie de venir Paccuser. — II est pret a repondre du sang qu'il 
a verse. — Com me il a gouverne sans peur, il abdique sans 
crainte. 



LETTRE DE MARIE STUART A ELISABETH. 

Elle commencera par dire a. Elisabeth que, malgre Parret qui 
la condamne, elle ne meurt pas son ennemie. — Fiere de son in- 
nocence, elle lui expliquera franchement la cause de sa mort. — 
L'ambition de la couronne 

Obeissant a saint Paul, elle prie Dieu pour elle. — Elle ajoutera 
que sa condamnation fait qu'elle n'a plus rien a craindre d'elle, 
que son supplice fera sa gloire, et qu'Elisabeth sera enfin, comme 
tous, jugee a son tour. — Elle formera des vceux pour que sa mort 
soit utile a sa persecutrice ; en la fesant se replier sur elle meme, 
et en Pamendant pour une autre vie. 

Elle finira par cette reflexion, qu'une couronne est un bien 
trop dangereux. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 193 

DISCOURS DE MAXIMIEN A DIOCLETIEN. 

304 ANS APRES J.-C. 

II commencera par temoigner sa douleur de ce que Indica- 
tion de Diocletien, au lieu d'etre utile a l'empire, lui est au con- 
traire tres funeste. — II deplorera le sort de Pempire attaque par 
les barbares, et mal gouverne par les nouveaux empereurs. 

II passera ensuite a l'eloge de Diocletien, et implorera son 
secours au nom de la patrie. 

II repondra a 1'objection que Diocletien pourrait lui faire des 
douceurs qu'il goute dans la vie privee.— II dira que les grands 
homraes ne sont pas nes pour eux seuls et pour une vie tran- 
quille. — II l'exbortera vivement a profiter de l'occasion, sans 
attendre que l'empire soit entierement livre aux barbares. 

II finira en lui ofTrant ses services pour une si noble entreprise. 



INCENDIE DE MOSCOU.— 1812 ans apres j.-c. 

Apres quelques reflexions philosophiques sur la guerre de 
Russie, vous peindrez l'incendie qui commence a devorer les 
palais, les eglises et les hopitaux de Moscou. — La nuit rend le 
tableau plus effrayant. — Fusees incendiaires lancees par les 
malfaiteurs. — Fureur du vent. — Etendue et rapidite de l'embrase- 
rnent. 

Le feu gagne le Kremlin. — L'empereur, qui n'a pas voulu 
l'abandonner, est enfin force de s'en eloigner. — II est assiege par 
les rlammes. — II sort par une poterne. — Le danger s'accroit. — 
Les traces des rues ont disparu. — L'empereur s'elance dans une 
issue etroite. — Dangers qu'il court. 

Tableau final de l'incendie. 



ALEXANDRE MOURANT, A SES GENERAUX. 

324 ANS AVANT J.-C. 

Mon regne est fini. — J'ai assez vecu pour la gloire. — J'ai 
venge la Grece. — L'Euphrate, le Nil et le Gauge ont vu mes 
drapeaux. — Partout j'ai fonde des villes et fait respecter mes 
armes. — O Atbeniens ! qu'il m'en a coute pour etre loue de 
vous ! 

Je ne sais si je meurs par un crime. — Peut-etre a-t-on puni le 
meurtrier de Clitus, de Callisthene et de Parmenion. 
17 



194 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Mais je ne veux point soupconner de coupables. — Toi, Per- 
diccas, regne a Babylone. — Ptolemee, je te laisse TEgypte. — 
Eumene, Ja Cappadoce. — Seleucus, la Syrie. — Antipater, la 
Macedoine. 

Si Paccord ne peut regner entre vous, si, comme je le crains* 
vous me faites de sanglantes funerailles, que le plus digne 
triomphe. 



LE DELUGE. — 2348 ans avant j.-c. — Description. 

Dieu veut punir par le deluge les crimes des hommes. — Une 
eeule famille trouve grace dans la clemence de l'Eternel. 

Vous decrirez le commencement du deluge. — Le ciel se 
couvre de nuages noirs qui repandent une nuit affVeuse au milieu 
du jour. — Les vents mugissent. — Le tonnerre gronde. — La pluie 
tombe par torrents. — Les mortels efFrayes cherchent un refuge 
6ur les plus hautes montagnes. — Quelques uns y parviennent et 
se croient en surete. — D'autres sont precipites dans les riots par 
les torrents qui s'ecoulent des flancs des montagnes. 

Dans ce bouleversement de la nature, 1'egoisme regne partout. 
— Cependant quelques mortels moins coupables veulent se rap- 
procher des objets de leur affection. — lis ne trouvent pas meme 
cette consolation. 

L'eau atteint le sommet des plus hautes montagnes. — Tout est 
englouti. — La pluie cesse. — L'arche miraculeuse, qui porte 
Noe et sa famille, est sauvee de la commune destruction. 



PELAGE DANS LES ASTUR1ES.— 714 ans apres j.-c. 

L'empire des Gotbs avait succombe. — L'Espagne etait en 
proie aux ravages des infideles ; mais Pelage lui restait, et elle 
n'avait pas perdu tout espoir. 

Les Asturiens avaient conserve leur sauvage independance. — 
Pelage se rend au milieu d'eux. — Tous jurent de le defendre, et 
le pressent de les mener au combat. 

L'archeveque de Tolede, le comte Pedro et les autres chefs 
l'entourent et le saluent roi d'Espagne. — Decrivez cette scene.— 
Supposez plusieurs discours, Tun de Tarcheveque, lui mettant 
au doigt l'anneau sacre ; l'autre de Pelage, jurant, le glaive en 
main, de venger ses freres egorges. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 195 

Enthousiasme de sescompagnons. — Us vont attendre, dans les 
defiles, l'aurore qui doit eclairer les premiers combats. 



LETTRE DE MATILDE A HELENE. 

Matilde exprime tous ses regrets d'etre separee de sa chere 
Helene, celle de ses amies qu'apres sa mere elle cherit le plus. 
— Elle aime son amie, moins a cause de sa beaute, que pour lea 
belles qualites de son cceur. — Comparaison delicate entre son 
amie et une autre Helene celebre. 

Elle ajoute que, loin de son amie, l'etude et les arts d'agre- 
ment l'aident un peu a tromper ses ennuis. — Elle etudie 
Fhistoire. — Elle s'exerce a composer sur divers sujets. — Elle ne 
neglige ni la musique, ni la peinture, et sa main trace des fleurs 
plus durables, mais moins fraiches, que celles des jardins. 

Elle engage Helene a venir passer pres d'elle un temps que 
son amitie trouvera toujours trop court. 

Elle termine en disant que le bonheur renaitra pour elle, des 
l'instant ou elle pourra embrasser son amie. 



LE GENERAL JACKSON A SES JUGES. 

II commencera en disant qu'il vient donner une preuve de sa 
sou mission aux lois de sa patrie. — II ne fera pas Tapologie de sa 
eonduite. — II laisse a la posterite le soin de la juger. — II n'im- 
plorera point Tindulgence de ses juges. — Tout republicain en 
servant fidelement son pays ne fait que son devoir. 

II prouvera que, dans une situation critique, un general en chef 
doit quelquefois mettre la necessite au-dessus des lois. — II ne se 
croirait pas digne d'etre Americain, s'il avait employe son 
pouvoir pour proteger ses interets personnels. — II invoquera le 
temoignage des habitants de la Nouvelle-Orleans. — Ceux qui 
Taccusent prefereraient-ils voir la Nouvelle-Orleans au pouvoir 
des Anglais ? 

II prouvera que s'il a viole les lois, il Va fait dans Pinteret de 
ceux qui Taccusent. — Au reste, il consentira volontiers a sa con- 
damnation, si ses juges consentent a inscrire en tete de Parret : — 
Le general Jackson agissant conlre les lois de sa patrie, Sfc. Sfc. 



196 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

CALLIPHON A SYLLA.— 87 ans avant j.-c. 

Calliphon implorera la clemence de Sylla en faveur d'Athenes 
qui s'etait revoltee contre les Romains. — II dira que les Athe- 
niens sont assez punis par tout le sang qui a ete verse, que les 
peres doivent obtenir grace pour leurs enfants.— II parlera des 
beaux siecles d'Athenes et de la gloire qu'elle a meritee dans la 
guerre et dans les arts. — II interessera la bienveillance de Sylla, 
en lui rappelant l'amour qu'il porte aux sciences et aux lettres. 

Cette ville a ete deja epargnee par les Spartiates, dans un 
temps ou son existence pouvait encore devenir redoutable. — 
Aujourd'hui, Athenes ne serait plus que le temple de la paix, 
Tecole des arts, le monument de la clemence romaine. 



ATTILA EN ITALIE.— Narration. 

Vous direz que de tons les chefs barbaresqui attaquerent Tem- 
pire romain, le plus redoutable fut Attila. — Sa puissance. — 
Ravages qu'il exerce. — II est trois fois vainqueur de Theodose le 
jeune, empereur d'Orient, sans pouvoir s'emparer de Constanti- 
nople. 

Vous direz que gorge d'or, ii passe dans les Gaules ou il est 
defait par Aetius et Merovee. — II se jette sur l'ltalie. — Resis- 
tance et incendie d*Aquilee. — Soumission des autres villes. — Le 
pape Leon-le-Grand part pour aller flechir Attila. — II rencontre 
le barbare pres de Ravennes, campe sur Theritage de Virgile. — 
-L*e pape engage Attila a mettre le comble a sa gloire en se 
montrant clement. — Vision qui frappe Attila de terreur. — II croit 
voir Pange exterminateur planant sur sa tete. — Attila accorde la 
paix et se retire en Pannonie. 



DISCOURS DE CHARLES-MARTEL A SES SOLDATS, 
AVANT LA BATAILLE DE POITIERS.— 730 ans apres j.-c. 

Si les Francais pouvaient connaitre la crainte, il leur dirait 
que les Sarrasins n'ont vaincu jusqu'ici que des peuples laches 
et des hordes sans discipline ; qu'ils n'ont triomphe en Espagne 
que par la trahison, et dans le midi de la France que par la 
surprise. 

Les Francais sont inferieurs par le nombre a leurs ennemis ; 
mais quelle difference entre les Arabes rassembles a la hate, et 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, D1SCOURS. 197 

de vieux soldats que Charles conduit depuis vingt ans a la vic- 
toire ? — Et quels ne seront-ils pas, aujourd'hui que les plus 
puissants et les plus saints motifs doivent enflammer leur 
courage ! — lis defendent leur patrie. — lis defendent PEurope 
qui les conteraple et dont ils sont Tunique espoir. — lis defendent 
la religion chretienne, pour laquelle Dieu a tant de fois signale 
son appui dans les Gaules. 

Charles rappellera la defaite d'Attila, le fleau de Dieu, la 
vicioire de Tolbiac, et celle de Vouille remportee sur Alaric, non 
loin des memes lieux ou la bataiile va se livrer. 



LE MATIN.— Description, 

La nuit n'exerce plus qu'un faible empire. — Elle se retire 
agitee et comme tremblante devant le jour qui va hii succeder.— 
L'aurore parait. — Peignez la progression de la lumiere. — Les 
animaux sortent de leurs retraites. — Dites ce qui annonce le reveil 
de la joie universelle. — Le berger se livre a ses occupations ainsi 
que le fermier. 

Dans les villes, Partisan et le marchand reprennent leurs 
bruyants travaux. — Mouvement general de tous les etres animes. 
— Le soleil est dans tout son eclat. 



L'IMPERATRICE JULIE A SES DEUX FILS. 

212 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Preambule. — Antonin et Geta, fils de Severe, lui succe- 
derent a l'empire. Ces deux freres se portaient des leur 
enfance une haine qui ne fit que croitre avec eux. Leur 
pere previt de bonne heure les suites d'une telle antipathie. 
II fit tout son possible pour rapprocher leurs esprits ; mais 
il fut plus heureux a vaincre ses ennernis qu'a reconeilier 
ses enfants ; il emporta au tombeau le triste presage des 
maux dont sa mort allait etre suivie. En effet, apres la 
mort de leur pere, Panimosite des deux freres eclata avec 
une entiere liberte. Trop divises entre eux pour posseder 
Pempire en commun, ils convinrent de le partager et de se 
separer pour jamais. L'imperatriee Julie, mere des deux 
princes, leur adressa le discours suivant. 

Argument, — Ils peuvent partager l'empire ; mais elle, pourra- 
t-elle se partager entre ses deux fils 1 — Elle leur reproche leurs 
17* 



198 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

funestes divisions, et cherche a leur inspirer des sentiments plus 
nobles. — Elle essaie de leur demontrer le tort que ces divisions 
font a l'Empire. — Croient-ils done, en se separant, etouffer les 
discordes ? — N'est-ce pas plutot se placer dans deux camps 
ennemis, et proclamer la guerre ? 

Et, quand ils n'en viendraient pas a cette extremite, l'Empire, 
ainsi divise, perdra ce qui lui reste de force. — Les barbares, corn- 
primes par le courage de Severe, vont s'elancer de toutes parts 
sur l'Empire aflfaibli par les divisions de ses fils. 

Elle finira par une apostrophe pathetique a Fombre de Severe. 



LA VIE D'UN AVARE.— Narration et Discours. 

Vous decrirez, avec des details a la fois plaisants et satiriques, 
le genre de vie d'un avare. — Reraontez Forigine de votre 
heros a ce ladre fameux qui mourut de faim, pendant le siege 
de Casilium par Annibal, pour avoir le plaisir de vendre un rat 
qu'il avait pris. 

Sur le point de mourir, Tavare adressera a son fils ses dernieres 
instructions. 

II lui recommandera Feconomie, la frugalite, la temperance, 
Fabstinence meme. — " Dans le temps ou le pain sera cher, dira- 
t-il, aie soin de ne manger que des pommes de terre, &c. &c. — 
Ne renonce a porter un vetement, que lorsqu'il sera crible de 
trous ; encore songe a en vendre les morceaux. — Je te laisse 
d'immenses richesses ; ne les dissipe pas. — Amasse, amasse, 
mon fils. — Apporte-moi ma cassette, pour que je lui donne le 
dernier baiser. — O mon or, je vais done te quitter ! — Je ne regrette 
que toi." 

Vous finirez par quelques reflexions satiriques. 



CHARLEMAGNE AUX GRANDS DE SA COUR. 

788 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Apres tant d'exploits glorieux, il veut donner un nouveau 
genre d'illustration a la France. — II est temps qu'elle sorte de 
l'ignorance et de la barbarie ou elle est plongee. — II faut cultiver 
ces sciences de Tantiquite qui forment l'esprit, qui apprennent a 
gouverner, a commander et a obeir. — Les moines ont conserve 
quelques copies des auteurs anciens. — Elles vont se multiplier et 
se repandre* 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 199 

II n'estime ni la noblesse ni la richesse sans instruction. — 
Toutes les distinctions seront desormais accordees a l'etude des 
lettres et aux progres des lumieres. 

u Grands de ma cour, voulez-vous meriter ma faveur ? Elevez 
vos enfants dans ces connaissances qui ennoblissent et relevent la 
nature de ^homme." 



MORT DE RIENZL— Narration. 

Innocent VI, desireux de retablir ses affaires en Italie apres la 
mort de Clement, tire Rienzi des prisons d'Avignon et l'envoie a 
Rome. — Desordres qui regnaient dans cette ville. — Enthousiasme 
des Romains a la nouvelle de Papproehe de Rienzi. — [Is oublient 
ses premiers torts et lui rendent la direction des affaires. 

Rienzi vit bientot diminuer sa popularite par la condamnation 
arbitraire de deux Romains. — II se montre hostile aux Colonna, 
famille puissante dans Rome. — Sedition. — II se presente, arme, 
a un balcon pour imposer a la populace. — On Pempeche de 
haranguer. — Ses tentatives pour parler. — Ses hesitations. — 
Voyant que tout est perdu, il cherche a sortir du Capitole, au 
milieu du tumulte, sous un vil deguisement. — II est reeonnu*— - 
Fureur de la populace. — II est perce de mille coups. 

Reflexions sur la mort de Rienzi, et sur le peu de fonds qu'on 
doit faire des faveurs du peuple. 



DISCOURS D'UN VIEILLARD SUR LES AVANTAGES 
DE LA VIE CHAMPeTRE. 

Dans une contree couverte de troupes ennemies, un vieillard, 
retire dans un vallou solitaire, gardait son troupeau ; quelqu'un 
l'aborde et lui demaude comment il pent habiter ce sejour sans 
craindre les fureurs de la guerre. 

Le vieillard repondra que sa famille et ses troupeaux n'ont 
encore rien eu a souffrir de la guerre. — II dira a quelles causes il 
est redevable-de cet avantage ; elles sont fondees sur 1'innocence 
et la pauvrete. — L'eleve pourra emplo^^er a ce sujet une com- 
paraison tiree des effets de la foudre. 

II parlera de son mepris pour l'ambition. — II decrira le specta- 
cle de la vie champetre qui fait son bonheur. — II rappellera les 
injustices qu'il essuya a la cour, ou, durant sa jeunesse, son am- 



200 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

bition le conduisit.— II dira comment il en vint a regretter la vie 
champetre, qui fait maintenant toute sa felicite. 



LETTRE DE CHARLES A SON AMI ALPHONSE. 

Charles avouera qu'il a perdu, dans la paresse, quelques annees 
de sa vie : mais ensuite l'etude s'est presentee a lui avec tous ses 
charmes. — L'etude a rendu plus vifs tous ses plaisirs, et a ealme 
la douleur profonde que lui a causee la perte d'un bon pere et 
d'une mere cherie. 

Seul, avec les Muses, il a trouve la paix et le bonheur, en 
s'entourant des souvenirs de l'histoire, des ecrits sublimes de la 
pbilosophie. — La poesie est venue aussi embellir sa solitude : 
avec elle, que de douces reveries ! que d'esperances de gloire ! 

"Ami, dira-t-il en terminant, fais comme moi, et tu seras 
heureux. — Ne dissipons pas, dans de vains amusements, les plus 
belles annees de notre existence. — Dans la jeunesse, amassons 
pour Phiver de la vie." 



MORT DU TASSE.— 1595 ans apres j. -c— Narration et Discours. 

Vous direz que les forces du Tasse sont epuisees par les 
chagrins et par la maladie. — Pendant qu'on lui prepare, a Home, 
un triomphe digne du chantre de la Jerusalem Delivree, au 
moment ou, comme Petrarque, il va etre couronne, il vient 
chercher le repos dans le monastere de Saint-Onuphre. 

Les religieux voyant arriver la voiture du cardinal Cintio, 
accourent. — Le Tasse, le visage decompose, descend de voiture 
~— " Mes peres, leur dit le poete, d'une voix eteinte, je viens 
mourir parmi vous !" 

Vous direz avec quel respect et avec quelle admiration les 
religieux recoivent le grand homme. 

Le Tasse, dans un moment d'inspiration, demandera a la re- 
ligion un bonheur qu'il n'a pas trouve dans la gloire. — Sa Muse 
a chante la delivrance de la Terre-Sainte. — Que le Christ en- 
tende sa priere et exauce ses voeux ! — II ne soupire qu'apres 
Finstant ou son arae sera rendue au ciel, et jouira du bonheur 
que les Chretiens attendent dans la celeste patrie. 

Vous raconterez les derniers moments du Tasse, 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 201 

ASSASSINAT DU PRESIDENT DURANTL— Narration. 

Preamlule.—La nouvelle de l'assassinat du due et du 
cardinal de Guise, aux etats de Blois, avait porte a son 
comble la haine des ligueurs de Toulouse contre le roi 
Henri III. lis firent retomber cette haine sur le premier 
president Duranti, zele partisan de la royaute. Dans une 
reunion du parlement, la discussion etait vive entre les 
royalistes et les ligueurs ; Duranti s'empressa de lever la 
seance, a la nouvelle de Papproche d'une foule de factieux 
armes. 

Argument.— Lie premier president sort du palais, ferme. et peu 
ebranle des fureurs de la populace. — Stupeur de la multitude a 
son aspect calme et imposant. — On le poursuit. — Le cocher lance 
les chevaux. — T/essieu se brise. — Duranti se rend a l'H6tel-de- 
Ville. — Froid accueil des Capitouls. — On engage Duranti a se 
retirer hors des murs. — Belle et courageuse reponse du presi- 
dent. — Les ligueurs s'emparent de sa personne, et le transferent 
au couvent des Jacobins. 

Les chefs des ligueurs exasperent la populace. — Elle met le 
feu a la porte du couvent. — Duranti, qui etait seul avec sa femme, 
se met en prieres. — Un ligueur vient lui annoncer que le peuple 
le demande. — Ses adieux a sa femme. — Separation. — Ses paroles 
au peuple. — EfFet de sa presence. — Un miserable fend la foule 
et lui tire un coup d'arquebuse. — Duranti meurt. — Le peuple 
traine son cadavre dans la ville. 

Vous finirez par quelques reflexions sur cette conjuration que 
Ton appelle la ligue. 



DUNOIS A CHARLES VII.— 1429 ans apres j.-c. 

lndigne du desbonneur qu'on propose a son roi en lui con 
seillant d'abandonner Orleans, il quitte cette ville assiegee. — II a 
traverse les lignes anglaises. — II vient supplier Charles VII de 
ne point desesperer de son royaume et de sa gloire. 

II represente les dangers de cette resolution. — Elle decoura- 
gera les Francais fideles, et augmentera la confiance des ennemis, 
qui, maitres d'un passage sur la Loire, le poursuivront dans sa 
retraite. 

Le peril est grand ; mais un roi de France doit-il ceder a la 
fortune et fuir devant les Anglais ? — Orleans n'est pas encore en 



202 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

leur pouvoir, et il retourne le defendre. — II lui fera pressentir 
que c'est la que les ennemis doivent echouer. — Si les secours 
humains lui manquent, que le roi mette sa confiance dans le 
Dieu de Clovis. 



VISITE A UN CIMETIERE D'UNE VILLE. 

Vous raconterez une visite a un cimetiere. — Vos impressions 
en entrant dans ce lieu. — Vous contrasterez les tombes rustiques 
avec les tombeaux fastueux que Pon voit dans les cimetieres des 
villes. — Vous prouverez que les grands monuments mortuaires 
impriment dans Tame des sentiments entierement opposes a ceux 
qu'ils devraient inspirer. 

Vous decrirez quelques monuments, les uns modestes, leg 
autres fastueux. 

Vous raconterez quelques scenes touchantes qui se passent 
sous vos yeux. — Ici, c'est un vieillard que ses cheveux blancs 
avertissent de sa fin prochaine. — La, c'est un enfant qui pleure en 
voyant pleurer sa mere. — Plus loin, une jeune fille qui cache 
aux hommes le spectacle d'une douleur dont Dieu seul connait le 
secret. 

Vous finirez par quelques reflexions religieuses. 



DISCOURS D'ASDRUBAL A SYPHAX. 

Asdrubal engage Syphax, roi des Numides, a rejeter les offres 
de Scipion. — Carthage, dit-il, aurait a craindre les artifices que 
le general romain sait mettre en ceuvre pour vous detacher de 
son alliance, si elle connaissait moins votre grandeur d'ame et 
votre fidelite. — II louera Syphax comme un prince incapable de 
manquer a ses allies. 

II lui montrera que Carthage n'est point abattue. — II rabaissera 
les conquetes des Romains en Afrique. — II vantera les forces 
d'Annibal, et toute 1 'Afrique prete a le secourir. — II ajoutera qu'il 
est de l'interet de Syphax de soutenir Carthage, et de ne pas 
ad mettre en Afrique une nation ambitieuse. — Rome ne fait des 
traites que pour se preparer des conquetes. — Ses allies devienneut 
ses esclaves. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 203 

LETTRE DE FRANCOIS Ibb A CHARLES-aUINT. 

1525 ANS APRES J.-C. 

La fortune des combats a decide entre eux. — Mais elle n'a pas 
donne au vainqueur le droit de maltraiter le vaincu. — C'est ce 
que n'ignore point Charles. — Sans doute d'infideles ministres 
trompent ses intentions. 

Francois peindra sa position de captif. — II s'en rapporte a la 
justice de l'empereur. — II est meme.de la dignite et de l'interet 
de Charles de reprimer des outrages faits a la majeste royale. — 
Souffria-t-il que des gens nes pour obeir insultent impunement 
un homme qui, quoique captif, est Tegal de l'empereur ? 

Que Charles ne reste pas au-dessous de sa fortune. — L'avenir 
ne peut se prevoir; mais, si jamais le sort conduisait le mo- 
narque espagnol dans lesEtats du rci de France, le roi de France, 
meme ayant des injures a venger, se souviendrait de ce qui est 
du a la majeste du trone. 

II ne peut. croire, il le repetera, que l'empereur approuve ou 
connaisse la conduite de ses ministres. — Mais, s'il est vrai qu'on 
veuille ebranler la fermete du vaincu, et arracher de lui quelque 
sacrifice honteux pour la France, il ne consentira jamais a une 
bassesse qui le rendrait digne de son mauvais sort. 



VILLAGE DETRUIT PAR UN EBOULEMENT.— Description. 
Des pluies presque continuelles pendant un mois avaient 
inonde un canton de la Suisse. — La montagne a laquelle etait 
adosse un village, qui portait le nom de Weggis, s'ebranla im- 
bibee. — Bruit sourd et concentre. — Securite des habitants au 
milieu du danger. — Agitation de la montagne. — Fracas horrible. 
— Une masse enorme se detache. — Elle s'avance; un ravin Par- 
rete un instant. — Elle descend avec lenteur et menace le village. 
« Desolation des habitants en voyant la montagne mobile pres 
de les atteindre. — Cloche d'alarme. — Les habitants, ne pouvant 
etablir une barriere a l'eboulement, songent a se sauver. — lis 
emportent tout ce qu'ils ont de plus precieux. 

La masse atteint le village ; les arbres, les maisons, tout est 
renverse. — Des quartiers de rocher se detachent et entrainent des 
cabanes isolees. — Tout est detruit sur la route de reboulement.— 
Tableau des debris qu'il laisse. 



204 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

CLOTILDE ET CLOVIS.— 496 an^ apres j.-c. 
Narration et Discours. 

Le discours de Clotilde doit etre precede d'une courte narra- 
tion : vous supposerez que, la veille de la bataille de Tolbiac, 
Clovis trouve Clotilde en priere devant la croix sainte. — II lui 
temoignera, comme il Tavait fait plusieurs Ibis, la surprise que 
lui inspire sa ferveur pour son Dieu. 

Clotilde se releve et, d'une voix emue, lui tient le discours 
suivant : "Puissiez-vous le connaitre, 6 Clovis, ce Dieu, le seul 
veritable ! . • . ." 

Quand son epoux renoncera-t-il au culte superstitieux des 
Francs? — Que n'embrasse-t-il une religion de paix et de verite, 
la seule qui soit digne de l'homme ? — De vaines considerations 
le retiendront-elles ? — Un instinct secret lui parle deja pour cette 
religion, puisqu'il a laisse baptiser ses enfants. 

Les faibles vertus, qui ont su plaire a Clovis dans son epouse, 
elle ne les doit qu'a cette religion si pure. — Ce Dieu, que revere 
une femme, est aussi le Dieu des armees. — Une grande journee 
se prepare. — Clovis peut, d'un mot, attirer sur ses drapeaux les 
regards d'un maitre, qui ne veut pour hommage qu'une foi 
sincere. 

Clovis ne promit rien, rnais on pouvait voir deja en lui le prince 
qui s'ecria au milieu du combat: "Dieu de Clotilde, donne-moi 
la victoire /" 



LETTRE DE CONDOLEANCE ADRESSEE A UN PERE 
SUR LA MORT DE SA FILLE. 

Consternation qu'a causee cette nouvelle au moment ou Ton 
croyait que ce bon pere etait heureux. — Reflexions sur la sensi- 
bilite de son co3ur. — On temoignera le desir qu'on aurait d'etre 
aupres de lui. — On remarquera que, dans son affliction son epouse 
lui reste et une autre fille. — Que celle-ci le dedommagera par sa 
tendresse. 

Desirs que 1'on forme que 1'amitie contribue a le soulager. — 
On le priera de repousser les idees melancoliques. — On lui con- 
seillera d'eviter la solitude, de se defendre de lui-meme, et de 
rester pres de ceux qui le paient d'un amour reciproque. 

On lui annoncera qu'on arrivera dans quelques jours. — Qu'on 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 205 

apprendra dans le commerce de l'amitie a supporter les maux de 
la vie. — Impatience qu'on a d'embrasser son ami. — On lui re- 
commande enfin le soin de sa sante. 



MORT DE ROLAND LE PALADIN.— Narration. 

Charlemagne avait dirige une expedition en Espagne contre 
les Sarrasins. — Apres de nombreux combats, l'armee des Francs 
se retirait, lorsqu'arrivee au pied des Pyrenees, a Roncevaux, 
Tarriere-garde, eommandee par Roland, fut surprise dans un de- 
file etroit. — Faites connaitre Tintrepidite de Roland et la terreur 
qu'il inspirait aux infideles. — lis lui tendent des embuches et 
l'attaquent. — Le heros escalade les obstacles accu mules autour 
d'e lui. — II devance ses compagnons et se trouve seul en presence 
d'une armee entiere. — Du haut des montagnes on fait pleuvoir 
sur lui une grele de traits. — Roland fait des prodiges de valeur. — 
II fait resonner son cor pour appeler ses compagnons. — lis ac- 
eourent. — Mais il avail rendu le dernier soupir. 

Regrets de ses braves compagnons. — Ses funerailles. 



DISCOURS ADRESSE A FRANCOIS Ier.— 1515 an s apres j.-c. 

Preambule. — Francois ler, parvenu a la couronne a Page 
de 21 ans, ne fut pas plus tot reconnu roi de France, que, 
rempli d'idees romanesques, excite par les courtisans qui 
pretendaient s'interesser a la gloire du prince, tandis qu'ils 
sacrifiaient les interets de la nation, il poursuivit les projets 
desastreux de Louis XII sur l'ltalie. On suppose qu'une 
resolution aussi insensee fut combattue par quelque sage 
ministre. 

Argument. — L'orateur commencera par feliciter la France de 
ce qu'apres avoir perdu un roi si digne de ses regrets, elle voit 
monter sur le trone un prince, dont le caractere et les grandes 
qualiies lui promettent le regne le plus heureux.— II est a sou- 
hailer seulement que 1'amour d'une fausse gloire ne fasse pas 
entreprenclre au nouveau roi des cboses egalement contraires a la 
justice et a ses interets. — Telle serait la guerre pour le duche de 
Milan. 

On cite les clauses d'un aricien-contrat de manage. — Mais ce 
titre douteux, ce droit equivoque peut-il 1'emporler sur la volonte 
reunie des Francais et des habitants du duche de Milan ? — Le 
18 



206 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

droit des princes est le droit de gouverner et de rendre les peuples 
heureux. — Francois ler conimencera-t-il l'exercice de ce droit 
par sacrifier la vie de ses propres sujets et par ravager le duche 
de Milan ? 

Cette guerre en Italie ne saurait avoir qu'une fin malheureuse. 
— Citez quelques faits historiques a l'appui de cette assertion. — 
" La France epuisee n'est pas encore remise de tant de pertes, et 
vous voulez la plonger dans de nouveaux malheurs. 

" Prince, one belle et noble carriere s'ouvre devant vous. — Et 
la posterite vous accordera le beau titre de restaurateur des 
lettres et des arts." 



LETTRE D'UN JEUNE HOMMB SANS POSITION DANS 
UN PAYS ETRANGER. 

11 commencera par s'excuser de n'avoir pas ecrit plus tot a son 
ami. — Les raisons qu'il en donne et qui sont tirees des douleurs 
morales qu'il eproiive, doivent peindre le desordre de ses idees. — 
L'incertitude de sa situation, son obscurke, l'inutilite de ses de- 
marches, TindirTerence de ceux qui Tapprochent, (toutes ces 
causes qu'il faut developper,) le dechirent et le navrent. — II ex- 
primera surtout les regrets qu'il eprouve d r avoir quitte son pays 
natal, ses parents, ses amis. — II comparera le bonheur dont il a 
entrevu quelques reflets, aux clartes du soleii couchant qui 
s'evanouissent sur la cime des montagnes. 

II dira qu'il existe des douleurs ealmes que son ame pourrait 
supporter, mais que ce desir est une illusion comme le reste. — - 
II dira que le dernier terme de la folie ou s'egarent ses pensees, 
c'est d'avoir desire une existence et une patrie differentes de 
celles que le ciel lui adonnees. 

II terminera, enfin, par un retour vers les idees de religion et 
de confiance en Dieu. 



DISCOURS CONTRE L'INSTITUTION DES GLADIA- 
TEURS.— 120 ANS apres j.-c. 

On voulait etablir a Athenes des combats de gladiateurs. 
L'affaire etant portee devant le peuple, Demonax s'oppose a 
cette nouvelle institution. 

Demonax commence par avouer que quand bien meme il 
serait certain de deplaire aux Atheniens, il dirait encore libre- 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. * 207 

ment ce qu'il croirait utile a. l'Etat. — Mais il est persuade qu'en 
cette occasion ses sentiments ne sont pas moins conformes a. ceux 
du pen pie qu'aux preceptes de la raison et de l'humanite. 

S'il s'agissait de l'etablissement de spectacles ordinaires, il 
representerait qu'ils sont inutiles.- — Assez de divertissements pu- 
blics detournent l'attention des soins qui la reclament. — Mais ces 
jeux sont inhumains. — Malheur au peuple qui applaudit a l'homi- 
cide, et qui en.consacre l'exemple ! 

En vain dirait-on que ces spectacles ^ntretiennent le courage 
et le mepris de la mort. — Leurs ancetres avaient du courage ; 
mais jls le puisaient a d'autres sources. 

Enfin, s'ils veulent etablir ces jeux cruels, qu'ils renversent 
avant tout 1'autel qu'ils ont eleve a la Misericorde. 



LETTRE No. 2L— RACINE A SON FILS.— 1692. 

N. B.— Argument. — Here we mean the letter No. 2, to which the pupil must 
write the primitive letter, viz. No. I, or write a reply, viz. No. 3.— (See pages 43, 
44, 45 ) 

Mon cher fils. Vous pouvez juger par toutes les inquietudes 
que m'a causee votre maladie, combien j'ai de joie de votre 
guerison. Vous avez beaucoup de graces a rendre a Dieu de ce 
qu'il a permis qu'il ne vous soit arrive aucun accident facheux, 
et que la fluxion qui vous etait tombee sur les yeux n'ait point 
eu de suites. 

Je loue extremement la reconnaissance que vous temoignez 
pour tous les soins que votre mere a pris de vous. J'espere que 
vous ne les oublierez jamais, et que vous vous acquitterez de toutes 
les obligations que vous lui avez par beaucoup de soumission a 
tout ce qu'elle desirera de vous. 

Votre lettre m'a fait beaucoup de plaisir ; elle est fort sagement 
ecrite, et c'etait la meilleure et la plus agreable marque que vous 
me puissiez donner de voire guerison : mais ne vous pressez pas 
encore deretourner a l'etude. Je vous conseille de ne lire que des 
cboses qui vous fassent plaisir, jusqu'a ce que le medecin vous 
donne permission de recommencer votre travail. 

Faites bien des amities pour moi a M r - votre precepteur, et 
faites en sorte qu'il ne se repente point de toutes les peines qu'il 
a prises pour vous. 

J'espere que j'aurai bientot le plaisir de vous re voir, &c. &c. 



208 * NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION, 

ENTREE DE JEANNE D'ARC A REIMS. 

Le 17 Juillet 1429, la ville de Reims presente un aspect in- 
accoutume. — Preparatifs pour l'entree triomphale de Jeanne 
d'Arc et du roi Charles VII. — Grand concours de peuple. 

Le cortege qui precede Jeanne d'Arc arrive aux portes de la 
ville. — Vous decrirez ce cortege. — Vous ferez connaitre les prin- 
cipaux chefs. — Acclamations du peuple. — Derriere ces preux 
chevaliers viennent les ministres de la religion. —Les acclama- 
tions du peuple cessent. — Bientot les acclamations redoublent. — 
Eiles annoncent que Jeanne d'Arc s'avance, — Tracez le portrait 
de l'heroine d'Orleans. — Tous les regards s'arretent sur satlouce 
et noble figure. — Elle reconnait un vieillard et deux jeunes filles. 
— Mon pere ! mes soeurs, s'ecrie-t-elle. — Mais son cceur ne lui ap- 
partient plus ; ils sont a Dieu qui l'envoie poursauver la France. 

Enfin Charles VII parait. — II est enloure de tout l'appareil de 
laroyaute. — Vous contrasterez l'entourage modeste de I'beroi'ne 
avec le faste qui entoure le roi. — Partout on entend les cris de : 
Vive le roi ! Vive Jeanne d'Arc ! La France est sauvee !' . . 

Arrivee du cortege a la cathedrale. — Vous decrirez la cere- 
monie du sacre. 

Apres la ceremonie, Jeanne d'Arc supplie le roi d'accorder la 
liberte aux prisonniers anglais. — La jeune heroine va lesdelivrer 
elle-meme. 

Vous finirez par une prevision historique. 



DISCOURS DE PINTO AU DUC DE BRAGANCE. 

1640 ANS APRES J.-C 

II representera que jamais il ne peut s'orTrir une plus belle 
occasion de recouvrer la couronne de Portugal usurpee par les 
Espagnols. — Les forces de l'Espagne sont occupees contre la 
France, la Hollande et les revokes de la Catalogne. 

La haine des Portugais contre leurs tyrans est monlee au 
comble. — Les regards se tournent vers le due de Bragance. — 
Tous les coeurs l'appellent. — C'est le liberateur que le Portugal 
attend et qu'il placera sur le trone. 

Suspect par sa naissance et par ses grands biens, le due espere- 
rait en vain que l'obscurite d'une vie privee dut le preserver de 
la haine etde la vengeance des Espagnols. — Sa perte est juree.— 
Sa moderation, sa prudence ne peuvent le mettre en sftrete. — 11 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 209 

faut qu'il se sauve par l'audace et se refugie sur le trone. — II 
serait honteux a lui de tromper l'attente de tout un peuple. — Que 
penseraient du due de Bragance, les principaux seigneurs du Por- 
tugal qui sont resolus a le proclamer roi? 



LETTRE No. 2.— P.-L. COURIER A SA COUSINE. 

N. B.— Argument— Here we mean the letter No. 2, to which the pupil must 
write the primitive letter, viz. No. J , or write a reply, viz. No. 3.— (See pages 43, 
44,45.) 

Vos lettres sont rares, chere cousine ; vous faites bien ; je m'y 
accoutumerais, et je ne pourrais plus m'en passer. Tout de bon, 
je suis en colere, vos douceurs ne m'apaisenl point. Comment, 
cousine, depuis trois ans, voila deux fois que vous m'ecrivez ! 
En verite, mamzelle Sophie. .... Mais quoi, si je vous 
querelle, vous ne m'ecrirez plus de tout ; je vous pardonne done, 
crainie de pis. 

Qui, surement, je vous conterai mes aventures, bonnes et 
mauvaises, tristes et gaies ; car il m'en arrive des unes et des 
autres ; il y aura plaisir a les entendre, et plus encore, je m'ima- 
gine, a, vous les conter. C'est une experience que nous ferons 
au coin du feu, quelque jour. J'en ai pour tout un hiver. J'ai 
<le quoi vous am user, et, par consequent, vous plaire, sans vanhe, 
tout ce temps-la ; de quoi vous attendrir, vous faire rire, vous 
faire peur, vous faire dormir. Mais pour ecrire tout, ah ! vrai- 
ment, vous plaisantez : Madame RadclifTe n'y suffirait pas. 

Cependant je sais que vous n'aimez pas a etre refusee, et 
comme je suis complaisant, quoi qu'on en dise, voici, en attendant, 
un petit echantillon de mon histoire ; mais e'est du noir, prenez-y 
garde. Ne lisez pas cela en vous couchant ; vous en reveriez, et 
pour rien au monde je ne voudrais vous avoir donne le cauchemar. 

Un jour, je voyageais en Calabre. C'est un pays de mechantes 
gens, qui, je crois, n'aiment personne, et en veulent surtout aux 
Francais. De vous dire pourquoi, cela serait long ; suffit qu'ils 
nous haissent a mort, et qu'on passe fort mai son temps lorsqu'on 
tombe entre leurs mains. 

J'avais pour compagnon un jeune homme d'une figure .... 

ma foi, comme ce monsieur que nous vimes au Raincy ; vous en 

souvenez-vous ? et mieux encore peut-etre. Je ne dis pas cela 

pour vou£ interesser, mais parce que c'est la verite. Dans ces 

18* 



210 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. ^ 

montagnes, les chemins sont des precipices ; nos chevaux mar- 
chaient avec beaucoup de peine ; mon camarade allant devant, 
uq sentier qui lui parut plus praticable et plus court nous egara. 
Ce fut ma faute : devais-je me fier a une tete de vingt ans ? 

Nous cherchames, tant qu'il fit jour, notre chemin a travers 
ces bois ; mais plus nous cherchions, plus nous nous perdions, et 
il etait nuit noire quand nous arrivames pres d'une maison plus 
noire encore. Nous y entrames, non sans soupcon ; mais com- 
ment faire? La nous trouvons toute une famille de charbonniers 
a table, ou du premier mot on nous invita. Mon jenne homme 
ne se fit pas prier : nous voila mangeant et buvant, lui, du 
moins; car pour moi, j'examinais le lieu et la mine de nos 
h6tes. Nos hdtes avaient bien mines de charbonniers; mais 
la maison, vous Feussiez prise pour un arsenal. Ce n'etaient 
que fusils, pistolets, sabres, couteaux, coutelas. Tout cela 
me deplut, et je vis bien que je deplaisais aussi. Mon 
camarade, au contraire : il etait de la famille, il riait, il causait 
avec eux, et, par une imprudence que j'aurais du prevoir (mais 
quoi ! s'il etait ecrit . . . ), il dit d'abord d'ou nous venions, ou 
nous allions, qui nous etions; Francais, imaginez un peu! cbez 
nos plus mortels ennemis, seuls, egares, si loin de tout secours 
humain ! Et puis, pour ne rien omettre de ce qui pouvait nous 
perdre, il fit le riche, promit a ces gens pour la depense, et pour 
nos guides le lendemain, ce qu'ils voulurent. Enfin, il parla de 
sa valise, priant fort qu'on en eut grand soin, qu'on la mit au 
chevet de son lit : il ne voulait point, disait-il, d'autre traversin. 
Ah! jeunesse, jeunesse ! que votre age est a plaindre ! Cousine, 
on crut que nous portions les diamants de la couronne : ce qu'il 
y avait qui lui causait tant de souci dans sa valise, c'etaient des 
lettres, et rien de plus. 

Le souper fini, on nous laisse ; nos botes couchaient en bas, 
nous dans la chambre haute ou nous avions mange ; une soupente, 
elevee de sept ou huit pieds, ou on montait par une echelle, 
c'etait la le coucher qui nous attendait, espece de nid,dans lequel 
on s'introduisait en rampant sous des solives chargees de pro- 
visions pour toute Tannee. Mon camarade y grimpa seul, et se 
coucha tout endormi, la tete sur la precieuse valise. Moi, de- 
termine a veiller, je fis bon feu, et rn'assis aupres. 

La nuit s'etait deja passee, presque entiere, assez tranquille- 
ment, et je commencais a me rassurer, quand sur Fheure ou il 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOUKS. 211 

me semblait que le jour ne pouvait etre loin, j'entendis au-dessous 
de moi notre hole et sa femme parler et se disputer ; et pretant 
1'oreille par la cheminee qui communiquait avec celle d'en bas, 
je distinguai parfaitement ces propres mots du mari : Eh bien ! 
enfin, voyons ; faut-il les tuer tons les deux? A quoi la femme 
repondit : Out, Et je n'entendis plus rien. 
' Que vous dirai-je ? je restai, respirant a. peine, tout mon corps 
froid comme un marbre ; a me voir, vous n'eussiez su si j'etais 
mort ou vivant. Dieu ! quand j'y pense encore ! . . . . Nous 
deux, presque sans armes, contre eux douze ou quinze qui en 
avaient tant ! Et mon camarade mort de sommeil et de fatigue ! 
L'appeler, faire du bruit, je n'osais ; m'echapper tout seul, je ne 
pouvais ; la fenetre n'etait guere haute, mais en bas, deux gros 
dogues burlant comme des loups. . . . En quelle peine je me 
trouvais, imaginez-le, si vous le pouvez. Au bout d'un quart 
d'heure, qui fut long, j'entends sur l'escalier quelqu'un, et p5r les 
fentes de la porte, je vis le pere, sa lampe dans une main, dans 
P autre un de ses grands couteaux. II montait, sa femme apres 
lui ; moi, derriere la porte ; il ouvrit ; mais avant d'entrer, ii 
posa sa lampe que sa femme vint prendre; puis il entra pieds 
nus, et elle, dehors, lui disait a voix basse, masquant avec ses 
doigts le trop de lumiere de la lampe : Doucement, va doucement, 
Quand il fut a Pechelle, il monte, son couteau dans les dents, et, 
venu a la hauteur du lit, ce pauvre jeune homme etendu ofTrant 
sa gorge decouverte, d'une main il prend son couteau, et de 

Tautre Ah ! cousine II saisit un jambon qui 

pendait au plancher, en coupe une tranche, et se retire comme il 
etait venu. La porte se referme, la lampe s'en va, et je reste 
seul a. mes reflexions. 

Des que le jour parut, toute la famille, a grand bruit, vint nous 
eveiller, comme nous l'avions recommande. On apporte a 
manger, on sert un dejeuner fort propre, fort bon, je vous assure. 
Deux chapons en fesaient partie, dont il fallait, dit notre hotesse, 
emporter Tun et manger i'autre. En les voyant, je compris enfin 
le sens de ces terribles mots : Faut-il les tuer tons les deux ? et 
je vous crois, cousine, assez de penetration pour deviner a present 
ce que cela signifiait. 

Cousine, obligez-moi : ne contez point cetle histoire. D'abord, 
comme vous voyez, je n'y joue pas un beau role, et puis vous me 
la gateriez. Tenez, je ne vous flatte point ; c'est votre figure 



2.12 NEW ZETET1C METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

qui nuirait a 1'erFet de ce recit. Moi, sans me vanter, j'ai la 
mine qu'il faut pour les contes a faire peur. Mais vous, voulez- 
vous conter ? prenez des sujets qui aillent a votre air : Psyche, 
par exemple. Adieu, ma belle petite cousine ; je vous embrasse 
mille fois du meilleur de mon coeur. 



COMBAT NOCTURNE DE SUENON.— Narration. 

Preamhide.~hes Vandales, profitant des tenebres d'une 
nuit d'hiver, se sont empares de la capitale de Suenon, roi 
d'une partie de la Suede. Pendant qu'a la suite d'un festin 
les vainqueurs se livrent au somrneiL Alpai's, fille de Sue- 
non, s'echappant du milieu de ses gardes assoupis, sort du 
palais et va rejoindre son pere qu'elle sait cache dans un 
souterrain. 

Argument. — Alpai's, arrivee a Tentree du souterrain, y penetre. 
— Frayeur vague qu'elle eprouve dans Tobscurite. — L'espoir de 
retrouver son pere la soutient. — Apres avoir marcbe quelque 
temps, elle appelle Suenon. 

Un bruit se fait entendre. — Une lumiere eclaire la voute. — 
Alpais apercoit deux guerriers qui Pavaient suivie. — Elle hate sa 
marche. — Son pere parait. — Elle lui adresse quelques mots pour 
Fengager a. fuir, et tornbe evanouie. 

Les deux Vandales attaquent Suenon. — La lampe s'eteint. — 
Le prince profite de l'obscurite pour se tenir a Pecart. — Les deux 
guerriers, se meconnaissant, combattent l'un contre l'autre. — L'un 
d'eux succombe. — Le vainqueur reconnait son erreur. 

Suenon atlaque son adversaire.-—Apres de longs efforts, il lui 
porte un coup terrible. — Son epee se rompt. — 11 saisit son ennemi 
et lutte corps a corps. — Enfin Suenon est vainqueur. — II cherche 
sa fille qu'il trouve evanouie, et la rappelle a la vie. 



DISCOURS DE GONSALVE A LAS-CASAS. 
Ce discours doit etre precede d'une courte narration ou Ton 
dira que Gonsalve, fils du feroce Davila, ayant ete pris par les 
Indiens, fut jete dans une prison d'ou il ne devait sortir que pour 
aller a. la mort. — L'ami des Mexicains, le vertueux Las-Casas, 
entend les cris de Gonsalve et demande a le voir. — Las-Casas est 
indigne de la cruaute des Espagnols envers les Indiens, 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 213 

Gonsalve repond qu'il n'a fait que son devoir. — Envoy e par 
son pere a la poursuite des Indiens, il a ete surpris et fait capiif. 
— Ses compagnons ont eu le bonbeur d'etre tues. — II reste seul. 
— Sa position est plus cruelle que la rnort. 

"II prie Las-Casas d'interceder pour lui aupres des Indiens. — 
II lui donne tous les motifs qui l'attachent a la vie.— II est jeune. 
— II ne reverra plus sa patrie. — II regrette de ne pas etre moit 
dans les combats. — II gemit de voir qu'il va etre immole sur les 
autels des idolalres. 

Rendez-moi a mon pere. — II n'a que moi. — Je le supplierai 
d'avoir pitie des Indiens. 



LETTRE No. 2.— LETTRE DE RECOMMANDATION. 

Madame. — Combattu par des mouvements bien diflerents, j'ai 
longtemps balance, avant d'oser me determiner a vous envoyer 
cette lettre. Je sentais toute l'indiscretion d'une telle demarche, 
et a quel point c'elait abuser de la bonte que vous elites pour moi 
pendant mon sejour a Paris, que de vous la redemander pour un 
autre ; mais, sollicite vivement par une dame que son merite met 
a l'abri des refus, et pone, d'ailleurs, a profiter du moindre pre- 
texte pour rappeler un souvenir qui m'est si precieux que le 
votre, le penchant (comme il arrive presque toujours) a triomphe 
de la discretion : et je satisfais en me me temps a mes propres 
inclinations et aux instances de Madame Cleiand, qui aura 
l'honneur de vous remettre cette lettre. 

Je sais par experience, Madame (car j'en suis moi-meme un 
exemple), que ce n'est pas la premiere affaire de la sorte, a la- 
quelle votre reputation, qui ne se renferme point dans les bornes 
de la France, vous a exposee ; mais je me flatte, aussi, que vous 
ne la trouverez pas la plus desagreable. Un merite superieur, 
un esprit juste, delicat, orne par la lecture de tout ce qu'il y a de 
bon dans toutes les langues, et un grand usage du monde, qui 
ont acquis a Madame Cleiand Pestime et la consideration de tout 
ce qu'il y a d'honnetes gens ici, me rassurent sur la liberte que 
je prends de vous la recommander, et me persuadent meme qu.8 
vous ne m'en saurez pas mauvais gre. 

Si vous me demandez, par hasard, pourquoi elle m'a choisi 
pour son introducteur aupres de vous, et pourquoi elle a cru que 
je m'etais~ acquis ce droit; je vous dirai franchement, que c'est 



214 NEW 2ETJETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION, 

moi qui en suis cause. En cela, j'ai suivi l'exemple de la plupart 
des voyageurs, qui, a leur retour, se font valoir cbez eux, par 
leurs prefendues liaisons avec ce qu'il y a de plus distingue chez 
les autres. Les Rois, les Princes et les Ministres, les ont 
toujours combles de leurs graces; et moyennant ce faux etalage 
d'honneurs qu'ils n'ont point recu, ils acquierent une considera- 
tion qu'ils ne meritent point. J'ai vante vos bontes pour moi, je 
les ai exagerees merae, s'il etait possible ; et enfin, pour ne vous 
rien cacher, ma vanite a pousse l'efFronterie au point merae de 
me donner pour un de vos plus intimes amis. Alors Madame 
Cleland me prit ati mot, et me dit : " J'irai bientot en France, je 
n'ambitionne rien tant que l'bonneur de connaitre Madame de 
Tencin ; et puisque vous etes un des amis intimes de cette dame, 
il vous sera aise de me donner une leltre pour elle." 

Le cas etait embarrassant ; car, apres ce que j'avais dit, un 
refus aurait ete trop cboquant ; si bien que je me suis trouve 
reduit a risquer cette lettre; je crois meme que je l'aurais risquee 
si je n'avais pas eu l'honneur de vous connaitre du tout, plut6t 
que de me donner un dementi sur un article si sensible. 

Ayant done franchi le premier obstacle, je voudrais bien profiter 
de ma hardiesse pour vous e*xprimer les sentiments de reconnais- 
sance que j'ai, et que j'aurai toujours pour vous ; je voudrais 
aussi vous exprimer tout ce que je pense des qualites de votre 
coeur et de votre esprit ; mais tout cela me ferait depasser de 
beaucoup les bornes d'une lettre. Agreez, Madame, Testime et 
l'attacbement respectueux, &c. &c. 



LE PATRIARCHS SIMEON ET PIERRE L'HERMITE 
AU TOMBEAU DE J. -C— Narration. 

C'etait en 1094; deux personnages s'entretenaient dans une 
eglise, pres d'un tombeau. — Peignez le recueillement qu'inspi- 
raient ces lieux. — L'un de ces personnages, vieillard venerable, 
ftssait a l'autre un recit patbetique. — L'impression eprouvee par 
celui-ci se manifestait tour-a-tour par son attention, sa douleur, 
sa pit ie, sa colere 

Apres ce tableau, vous preciserez le lieu et les acteurs de la 
scene. — C'etait dans l'egllse du St.-Sepulcre que le patriarcbe 
Simeon racontait a. Pierre l'Hermite les cruautes que les infideles 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 215 

exercaient contre les Chretiens. — Faites contraster sa resignation 
avec Texaltation de Pierre THerraite. — Le patriarche apres 
Tavoir calme, lui montre que pour mettre fin a cette desolation, 
il faut que 1'Europe intervienne et chasse les Musulmans. 

Agitation de Pierre. — L'enthousiasme se peint sur son front. 

Pierre retourne en Europe. — Quelques mois apres, toute la 
chretiente se levait a sa voix. 



DISCOURS DE S1SYGAMBIS A ALEXANDRE, 

Sisygambis, intruite par la renommee de l'extreme tendresse 
d'Alexandre pour sa mere, fait d'abord appel a ce sentiment. — 
Elle oppose ces deux situations si differentes: Olympias, beureuse 
des triomphes de son fils. — Sisygambis, captive, incertaine du 
sort de son fils, et voyant ses filles livrees a la discretion du vain- 
queur. 

Une femme, une reine, a droit a. des egards. — Par la haute 
opinion qu'elle dira avoir congue d'Alexandre, elle forcera celui-ci 
a la justifier.— -S'est-elle trompee en le croyant magnanime ? 
. Alexandre, dira-t-elle, a interet a respecter dans autrui la 
majeste royale dont il est revetu, et a montrer aux peuples que 
ceux qui out regne ne descendent pas, meme dans le malheur, 
au rang des autres hommes. 

Elle finit en faisant ressortir sa misere, en lui opposant le 
tableau de sa grandeur passee. 



LETTRE No. 2.— J.-J. ROUSSEAU A UN JEUNE HOMME 

QUI DEMANDAIT A S'ETABLIR A MONTMORENCY, POUR 
PROFITER DE SES LE£ONS. 

Vous ignorez, Monsieur, que vous ecrivez a un pauvre horame 
accable de maux, et de plus fort occupe, qui n'est guere en etat 
de vous repondre, et qui le serait encore moins d'etablir avec 
vous la socieie que vous lui proposez. Vous m'honorez, en 
pensant que je pourrais vous y etre utile, et vous etes louable du 
motif qui vous le fait desirer ; mais sur ce motif meme, je ne vois 
rien de moins necessaire que de vous etablir a Montmorency : 
vous n'avez pas besoin d'aller chercher si loin les principes de 
la morale. 



216 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

ilentrez dans votre cosur, et vous les y trouverez ; et je ne 
pourrai rien vous dire a ce sujet, que ne vous dise encore niieux 
votre conscience, quand vous la voudrez consulter. La vertu, 
Monsieur, n'est pas une science qui s'apprend avec tant d'ap- 
pareil : pour etre vertueux, il suffit de vouloir l'etre ; et si vous 
avez bien cette volonte, tout est fait ; votre bonheur est decide. 

S'il m'appartenait de vous donner des conseils, le premier 
que je voudrais vous donner serait de ne point vous livrer a ce 
gout que vous dites avoir pour la vie contemplative, qui n'est 
qu'une paresse de l'ame, condamnable a tout age, et surtout au 
votre. L'homme n'est point fait pour mediter, mais pour agir • 
la vie laborieuse que Dieu nous impose n'a rien que de doux au 
cceur de 1'homme de bien qui s'ylivre en vue de remplir son 
devoir; et la vigueur de lajeunesse ne vous a pas ete donnee 
pour la perdre a d'oisives contemplations. 

Travaillez done, Monsieur, dans l'etat ou vous ont place vos 
parents et la Providence : voila le premier precepte de la vertu 
que vous voulez suivre ; et si le sejour de Paris, joint a Temploi 
que vous remplissez, vous parait d'un trop difficile alliage avec 
elle, faites mieux, Monsieur, retournez dans votre province ; allez 
vivre dans le sein de votre farnille ; servez, soignez vos vertueux 
parents : e'est la que vous remplirez veritablement les soins que 
la vertu vous impose. 

II est plus facile de supporter une vie dure en province, que de 
poursuivre la fortune a Paris, surtout quand on salt, comme vous 
ne Tignorez pas, que les plus indignes maneges y font plus de 
fripons gueux que de parvenus. Vous ne devez point vous es- 
timer malheureux de vivre comme fait Monsieur votre pere ; et 
ii n'y a point de sort que le travail, la vigilance, Vinnocence et le 
contentement de soi ne rendent supportable, quand on s'y soumet 
en vue de remplir son devoir. 

Voila, Monsieur, des conseils qui valent tous ceux que vous 
pourriez venir prendre a Montmorency ; peut-etre ne seront-ils 
pas de votre gout, et je crains que vous ne preniez pas le parti de 
les suivre : mais je suis sur que vous vous en repentirezun jour. 
Je vous souhaite un sort qui ne vous force jamais a vous en 
souvenir. 



NARRATIONS, LETTRES, DISCOURS. 217 

UN COMBAT NAVAL. 

Vous decrirez les premiers preparatifs pour un combat naval. 
— Les amiraux des deux nations donnent le signal de l'attaque. — 
Un bruit immense se fait entendre. — Ce bruit ressemble au fracas 
de mille tonnerres que repetent mille echos. — Ravages causes 
par les boulets. — Les amiraux observent la face du combat. — lis 
font reparer les desastres et donnent des ordres. 

Bientot les vaisseaux des deux nations se melent. — Le combat 
devient plus terrible. 

Un des vaisseaux amiraux est semblable a un volcan. — Les 
matelots lancent desflammes d'une main, et de 1'autre, ils tachent 
d'eteindre le feu qui les environne. — Courage inutile. — L'em- 
brasement se repand. — Les matelots a demi consumes par le feu 
se precipitent dans la mer. — Une explosion terrible se fait en- 
tendre. — L'abime s'ouvre et le vaisseau-amiral disparait. 

La victoire longtemps incertaine se declare. — Tableau final. 



LES GRECS FUGITIFS A COSME DE MEDICIS. 

1460 ANS APRES J.-C. 

Les barbares de TAsie regnent dans la ville de Constantin.— • 
Les Mahometans detruisent les monuments de la Grece, renver- 
sent les temples, ou les consacrent a leur prophete. — Nous era- 
portons sur une terre etrangere notre culte et les ecrits immortels 
de nos aieux. 

L'ltalie doit accueillir des Chretiens echappes au glaive des 
infideles. 

Voici les ouvrages du siecle de Pericles. — Le genie de nos 
grands hommes trouvera en Occident des protecteurs et des 
rivaux. — La posterite sera redevable aux Medicis de la conserva- 
tion des chefs-d'oeuvre de la Grece. 

Les lettres nous aideront a supporter l'exil. — Heureux, si nous 
etions venges, et si l'Europe nous rendait notre patrie ! 



EXORDE D'UN DISCOURS SUR LA PATIENCE. 
L'orateur dira que l'homme cherche inutilement dans sa raison 
le moyen de guerir ses faibleses et ses dereglements. 

II ajoutera qu'en vain, pendant plusieurs siecles, la Grece, si 
fertile en esprits subtils, produisit des sages qui enseignaient l'art 
19 



218 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

d'etre heureux.— Leurs systemes ne fesaient naitre que de fausses 
vertus. 

Les desordres de la raison humaine inviterent la raison eter- 
nelie a descendre sur la terre. — Dieu devait aux Juifs le Messie 
pour degager sa parole donnee par la bouche de ses prophetes ; 
et il le devait aux Grecs pour corriger les egarements de leur 
sagesse. 

Le Messie parut, et les tenebres de l'esprit humain furent 
dissipes. — La loi de Jesus-Christ enseigna la patience jusqu-alors 
inconnue a la fausse philosophic ; et un renouvellement heureux 
s'opera dans l'univers. 



HENRI IV A L'ASSEMBLEE DES NOTABLES. 

Henri IV, roi de France, avoue en commengant qu'il n'a pas 
la pretention d'etre orateur. — II est anime par le seul desir 
d'etre le liberateur de son peuple. — II veut rendre la France 
prospere et florissante. — II prie les notables de tend re avec lui a 
ce but. — II se confie a leur patriotisme. — Si cette conduile n'est 
pas souvent adoptee par les rois, Tamour de ses sujets lui fait 
tout adopter pour les rendre heureux. 

Dans une allocution pathetique aux notables, il leur rappelle 
ce qu'il a deja fait pour la France. — Cela n'est rien en com- 
paraison de ce qu'il espere faire encore. 



LORD MONTROSE AU PARLEMENT D'ECOSSE. 

1650 ANS APRES J.-C. 

II demandera ce que c'est que le parlement d'Ecosse et quels 
sont les droits de la nation sans le roi. — Dieu seul fait les rois. — 
D'ailleurs qu'on lui montre la volonte du peuple. 

II rappellera les bontes de Charles ler, envers les Ecossais. — 
C'est a lui qu'ils doivent leur parlement. — II demandera ce qu'est 
devenu Charles l er * 

II finira en disant que, s'ils sont les veritables representants 
de la nation, ils la trahissent. — lis proclament l'independance, et 
d'un autre cdte, ils traitent avec le roi ! 



DEBATES/ 



EASTERN, MIDDLE, WESTERN AND 
SOUTHERN STATES. 

THE JUDGE. 

Argument. — Ladies and Gentlemen : A strange discussion 
has arisen amongst my comrades. — Each of them praises one 
part of the Union, and contends that this part surpasses the others, 
as well in intrinsic importance as in the number of great men 
produced 

Each one of my comrades earnestly desiring to exalt his own 
favoured region, I have requested them to write the motives 
which induce them to give the preference to one part of the Union 
over every other. — My comrades have followed my advice, and 
have composed the addresses which you are about to hear. — 
They have done me the honour of choosing me forjudge. — I will 
endeavour to retain their esteem without losing their friendship, 
&c. &c. 

This crown will be the reward of the conqueror, &c. &c. 

The order will be as follows, &c. &e. 

EASTERN STATES. 

Argument — By my accent you must presume that I am a 
Yankee. — All the world knows that it is not by vain speech that 
we settle our controversies. — Our reasons are as well at the point 
of our swords, as at the end of our tongues. — An enemy conquer- 
ed by our eloquence, or killed by our hands, is what we call a 
convinced mas. — Such are Yankee habits in matters of this 
kind 

Since I know I must sustain an oratorial combat against three 

• The arguments of these debates have been prepared so as to afford progressive 
exercises. 



220 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

adversaries, my imagination is full of martial fancies. — The his- 
tory of the last of the Horatii, conqueror of the three Curiatii, 
presents itself always to my mind. — Last night I dreamt that 
my three adversaries had come to fight me, &c. &c. 

Had I to prove that the Yankees are brave ! — The Yankees 
were the first to raise the standard against the oppression of Eng- 
land. — Relate some historical facts of the bravery of the Yankees 
during the Revolutionary War. 

I shall not go farther in the enumeration of our exploits. — To 
doubt that the Yankees are brave, is to doubt that it is light at 
noon. — But I perceive that in speaking of the Yankees' valor I 
become too excited. — My zeal would carry me to reproach the 
other States of the Union for their indolence, whilst the Yankees 
were righting for American liberty. — But I am a generous ad- 
versary, &c. &c. 

Let us now pass on to our other qualities. — They are numer- 
ous, and I will be obliged to omit a great many. — Give an enu~ 
meration of Yankee qualities. 

They accuse the Yankees that in commercial life they are not 
frank and open enough. — Refute this accusation. 

Let us now speak about our genius. — Give an enumeration of 
the illustrious men of New England, and continue thus : " Par- 
don me, you whom I purposely omit to name. — It is not because 
you are not equally dear to me. — But you are too numerous, and 
the time which remains to me is too short. — I cannot render you 
a particular eulogy," &c. &c. 

At last, permit me to repeat here what people say everywhere. 
— The Yankees possess, in so high a degree, the talent of amu- 
sing, that they n ake the most morose men laugh. — Relate here 
some jokes suitable to the subject. 

I claim, then, the crown for the country I defend. — I am so 
sure of the success of my cause, that I put on my head, by anti- 
cipation, the crown of the conqueror, &c. &c. 

The Judge stops him and reproaches him for his modesty. 

WESTERN STATES. 
Argument. — Before commencing my remarks, permit me to 
give you some explanations. — I have always deplored that kind 
of discourse which tends to prove that an American is not truly 
an American, but a man of the Northern, Eastern, dec. &c. 



DEBATES. 221 

If my comrades had followed my advice, we should have 
chosen another field of battle. — We should have impartially com- 
pared the United States with the most powerful and the most en- 
lightened nations of the world. — This would have been a contest 
worthy of exciting our zeal, &c. &c. 

By what I have already told you, I wish you to understand 
that I have accepted this post without provoking it. — But because 
I wished to change the field of battle, do not think that I shrink 
from comparing the Western States with the other parts of the 
Union. — No, such was not my intention. — I wished only to do 
away with this civil war of words, &c. &c. 

No matter in what respects this discussion is made, the supe- 
riority of the Western States is plainly seen.— -Let us place it on 
the ground of physical resources. — Make a poetical description of 
the fertility of the Western States, — Compare that land to the an- 
cient Canaan, Sfc. fyc. 

Let us change our ground. — Let us consider the great moral 
traits of ^Western character. — Describe, poetically, the Western 
character. — Who can enough praise the patriotism and humanity 
of Western men! — The sure mark of a noble and virtuous 
mind, &c. &c. 

May I be pardoned if I speak a little longer of the illustrious 
men the Western States have produced. — There are Jackson, 
Harrison, Polk, — three Presidents ! — Clay, Cass. — I could name 
many others 

After having given good counsel to my comrades, I will not 
set a bad example to them, when they are become my oppo- 
nents. — I trust entirely to the enlightened mind of the judge we 
have chosen. — And whichsoever part of the Union obtains the 
crown, instead of complaining, I will rejoice, — for I am an Ame- 
rican — nothing but an American, &c. &c. 

SOUTHERN STATES. 

Argument* — I rise to advocate the claims of the South. — Ob- 
serving that frankness which is a distinguished mark of Southern 
character, I confess that in some sense I arn chargeable for this 
discussion. — If my adversaries accuse me of pride, my answer 
will be found in the result of this contest, &c. &c. 

1 have listened with pleasure to the advocate of the Western 
19* 



222 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

States. — I regard them, in part at least, as the worthy relations 
of the South. — You will give proofs of that assertion. 

It is with little less gratification that I have heard set forth the 
sterling services and great worth of the North. — You will praise 
the North for her patriotism, her schools, her colleges, fyc. Sfc. — 
But when she affects to exalt herself above the South, I stand 
ready to oppose such pretension. — Wherein consists the superi- 
ority of the North ? — Nothing has been said that shall make me 
shrink from placing the South side by side with the proudest pas- 
sages in the history of the North, &c. &c. 

Holding to the great truth, that the greatness of a country rests 
on the character of its people — you will describe, in the warm- 
est style, the character of Southern men. — Nurtured under a 
warmer sky, the inhabitants of the South do not possess the care- 
ful and calculating prudence of the North. — But shall this im- 
petuosity of character be charged upon them as a fault ? — It is 
the very element of their greatness. — You will give proofs of that 
assertion. 

Let us turn to another source of Southern pride, and offer you 
the names of some of her illustrious sons. — No part of the Union 
has given to the world such bright examples of distinguished 
talents and patriotism as the South. — You will give proofs of that 
assertion. — I cannot attempt to place before you the history of 
the worth and services of Washington. — It would be the history 
of our country, &c. &c. 

Now, Mr. President, forget, if you can, your American feel- 
ings, &c. &c. 

You will conclude. 

MIDDLE STATES. 

Argument. — I have heard, with exemplary patience, all that 
has been said in the cause of the East, West, and South. — I come 
to represent the Middle States. — And while I do not desire to come 
in the spirit of boasting, I candidly own that my confidence is 
that of assured viclory, &c. &c. 

Do not expect me to enter upon a long enumeration of the su- 
perb edifices, the admirable monuments, the magnificent works 
of art which adorn the Middle States. — I will mention a few 
monuments of our genius. — Let your memory supply the de- 
scription of the others. — You will describe, poetically, the princi- 



DEBATES. 223 

pal monuments and works of art which adorn the cities of New- 
York, Philadelphia, fyc. Sfc. 

There are other reasons on which I found the claims of the 
Middle States.— They are in the character of services of the 
great men they have produced. — They are in the wonderfully 
expansive and practical nature of their works. — In the immense 
benefit we have derived from them. — To whom do we owe the 
long lines of internal navigation ? — Which State was the first to 
prove the great experiment of railroads and steam-cars? — But, 
above all, where was the first triumphant application of steam to 
the purposes of navigation ? — Since the days of Guttemberg, no 
discovery has wrought such astonishing results upon the condi- 
tion of man. — You will describe, with animation, these results. 

It is with conscious pride that I turn to strengthen my position 
by citing the illustrious names that adorn the history of the Mid- 
dle States. — I might speak of a Rittenhouse — of a Clinton — of a 
Livingston — of a Reed, so poor, or rather so rich — of John Jay, 
Fulton, &c. &c. — But the time would fail me to present the ser- 
vices of these illustrious men. — I will only select two characters 
identified with the history of our own State. — You will select two 
characters, and write an eulogy upon them, but not a biographical 
notice. 

Now, since I have proven that the Middle States deserve the 
honour I claim for them, I must mention another consideration. — 
I beg pardon for the personal vanity that prompts it, &c. &c. 

I claim the preference, because the section whose claims I ad- 
vocate contains within itself the Empire State. — This State con- 
tains within itself the county of Westchester. — In this county is 
found the fair town of Mount-Pleasant, and here rises, &c. &c. 

You will conclude. 

THE JUDGE. 

Argument. — My dear comrades, the addresses you have just 
pronounced have caused me very delightful emotions. — I feel how 
proud he ought to be who has had the good fortune to be born in 
this highly favoured land, &c. &c. 

I heartily unite with you in the eulogies which you have ad- 
dressed to the parts of the Union you had to defend, &c. &c. 

Yes, every part of the Union possesses advantages peculiar to 
itself. — Short enumeration of these peculiar advantages. 



224 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

After having listened attentively to your addresses, I will give 
a decision which will gratify your patriotic feelings. — I declare, 
then, that all parts of the Union have an equal right to our es- 
teem. — So, my dear fellow-students, you ought to be satisfied, 
since each one of you gains his cause. — I have known many 
suits where the parties were not so fortunate as you. — But, as the 
crown must be given to some one, with your consent, I will be- 
stow it upon, &c. &c. 



ITALY, FRANCE, GERMANY, ENGLAND, AND 
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

THE JUDGE. 

Argument. — The Judge, addressing the audience, commences 
by recalling to mind the advice given to his comrades by the 
orator who defended the Western States, on the occasion of the last 
exhibition. — He says that his fellow-students have followed that 
advice. — They have again chosen him judge, for which mark 
of confidence he returns them thanks, &c. &c. 

He lays before the audience the subject of debate. — In a short 
address to the Assembly, he claims indulgence for those of his 
comrades who have to present the defence of foreign countries, 
&c. &c. 

Order of addresses, &c. &c. 

ITALY. 

Argument. — I present myself to maintain the rights of a nation 
which was formerly the first in war, as she is now the first in fine 
arts. — Yet I must confess that Italy is not what she was when 
she subjugated the whole world by the power of her arms. — 
Now she subjugates nations in different ways, more suitable to 
the refined manners of modern civilization, &c. &c. 

But, before I commence the defence of modern Italy, let us 
pay a noble tribute to the memory of the illustrious men of an- 
cient Rome. — In this homage all modern nations should join. — 
Short but enthusiastic eulogy of the principal writers, philosophers 
and orators of ancient' Rome.-— Pay your particular homage to 

Cicero, fyc. $fc. 

(Here the pupil may introduce a poetical description of the climate and 
fertility of Italy.) 



DEBATES. 225 

The chief glory of modern Italy rests upon her position in that 
period when the whole world was enshrouded in the gloom of the 
middle ages. — A dark cloud had passed over her, but soon Italy, 
like the Phoenix, arose again from its ashes. — Then sprung up 
in Italy that crowd of great men, who spread abroad through all 
barbarous Europe the civilization, belles lettres, sciences and fine 
arts. — Draw an animated picture of the revival of letters. — Make 
an eulogy on Dante, Ariosto, Petrarch, Tasso, Sfc. fyc. 

Let us now come to some branches of fine arts in which mo- 
dern Italy has no rival. — Poetical eulogy of painting and music 
united. — Eulogy of Michael An gelo, Titian, Raphael, Corregio, 
Guido, tip. 8fc. — Eulogy of Paisiello, Bellini, Rossini, Verdi, 
Donizetti, fyc. Sfc. 

Now permit me to present you a single question, and on the 
answer I rest my cause. — Are those who confer a benefit greater 
than those who receive it ? — What should we be ? — What should 
be this new continent if Christopher Columbus, &c. &c. 

You will conclude. 

FRANCE. 

Argument. — In this discussion I come the advocate of France, 
and I claim, for the country I defend, a proud pre-eminence.— 
To establish my own cause, I need not be unjust to my rivals, 
&c. &c. 

Do not expect that, armed at all points, I present myself on the 
field of battle.— No! &c. &c. 

As the influence of a nation is always connected with the influ- 
ence of its language, I begin with this argument. — You will say 
that the French language can be compared to that of Athens and 
Rome. — You will trace a lively description oj the beauties and in- 
fluence of the French language. 

Another means of measuring the greatness of a nation may be 
in the influence and character of its metropolis. — Short descrip- 
tion of the monuments of Paris. — Astonishment of travellers of all 
nations, Sfc. Sfc. 

But let us consider Paris in relation to the wit and to the talents 
and character of its inhabitants. — You will prove that Paris is the 
centre of the arts and taste. Painting, sculpture, music, &c. &c. 
«—Paris is the sanctuary of sciences. Academies of sciences, 
dec, &c. — You will introduce the name of the young astronomer, 



226 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Leverrier. — The French Academy. The poets, historians and 
writers of France. 

Instead of speaking of the innumerable warriors of France, you 
will describe the principles and qualities of that valour called 
French valour — Honour. You will illustrate that point by showing, 
for example, the magnanimity of Francis 1st, of France, towards 
Charles 5th, of Spain. — Far different was the conduct of the Bri- 
tish Government towards the great Emperor of France ! &c. &c. 

Will they accuse the French of being proud of their nation and 
of the great men she has produced ? — You will repel this accusa- 
tion, and draw a comparison between the feelings of the French 
people and American feelings. — After this comparison, you will 
consider if the defects they assign the French, are not natural 
consequences of their character. — You will draw a lively sketch of 
the French character. — The French push every thing to extreme. 
— You will show that these defects are the defects of nature, Sfc. 8fc. 

You will conclude. 



SPEECH BY A PUPIL. 

In the discussion which we hold this evening, I come the 
advocate of France \ in me she enters these bloodless lists, 
and disdaining all arms but those of truth, she lays claim to 
a proud pre-eminence among the nations of the earth. Dis- 
trustful of my own strength, but animated by the greatness 
of my cause, and strong in its justice, I fear not to en- 
counter, singly or united, the whole power of my adversa- 
ries. 

To establish my own cause, I need not be unjust to my 
rivals ; rather than detract from the qualities that distinguish 
them, I rejoice to recount them, and were it possible, I would 
add to their bright array a thousand fold. Let them gather 
their honours from the past or the present, and spread them 
before you ; they are but as tributes to the glory of France, 
and add to the lustre of her renown. 

Do not expect, Mr. President, that in covering myself 
with the invincible arms which France possesses, I present 
myself armed at all points on the field of battle. No ! 
France is a generous adversary ; she will conquer her ene- 
mies, but on this field she will conquer them by persuasion ; 
on other fields, she has conquered enough by the power of 
her arms. 



DEBATES. 227 

It will readily be admitted that the influence of a nation 
is to a great degree connected with the influence of its lan- 
guage, and this will be my first position. 

All learned men can affirm that the French is the only 
modern language that can be compared to that of Athens 
and Rome, and that in it all the beauties of those ancient 
tongues are combined. Its merit is so generally known 
that it has become the language of diplomacy, and it is a 
bond of union in the intercourse of nations. It has become 
the language of courts ; kings and princes own its power, 
and honour themselves by speaking it. The Sultan, great 
despot and half barbarian as he is, convinced of the utility of 
this beautiful language, has sent to the schools of France the 
most intelligent youth of his empire, and hopes, through 
them, to introduce it in all his vast dominions. In all Ger- 
many and Russia, no man can be promoted to the rank of 
an officer without understanding French. In the refined 
circles of our own country and of England, who does not 
know the influence of this rapidly spreading language ? It 
is everywhere the vehicle of wisdom, elegance and wit. 

Another means of measuring the greatness of a nation 
may be in the influence and character of its metropolis ; 
and what metropolis dare lift its head in rivalry with Paris ! 
Go with me to this peerless city ; look upon her monuments, 
her works of art, her institutions of science, her halls of 
learning, the rich intellectual banquet she daily and freely 
spreads for all, and you will confess that, capital of the whole 
world and queen of all cities, as she is, she well deserves 
the name. O Paris, unrivalled city ! O Paris, eighth won- 
der of the world ! how can my feeble voice praise, with 
sufficient dignity, the admirable monuments, the innumera- 
ble works of art, that thou hast within thy walls, and which 
make thee the capital of the whole world and queen of all 
cities ! I call upon your testimony, O travellers of all na- 
tions, who have been brought, by your curiosity or a desire 
of instruction, to Paris ! You had heard of the wonders of 
this modern Thebes, this modern Athens, this modern Rome ; 
but while seeing this fairy capital you stood as if struck by 
a thunderbolt of astonishment, for the realty surpassed 
even the wonders announced by the thousand trumpets of 
the renowned. 

But let us only consider Paris in relation to the wit and 
to the talents and character of its inhabitants. Here the 



228 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

elegancies and refinements of civilized life have reached 
their highest point. Here they are seen in their happiest 
union. Centre of the arts and of taste, temple of the muses, 
sanctuary of the sciences, home of amiability and politeness, 
seat of elegance, what a charming spectacle thou afFordest, 
O Paris, to those eyes that a jealous and envious rivalry 
has not blinded ! Let us visit those celebrated halls, where 
the human mind has produced so many master-pieces ! 
Here, the pencil of the painter, and the sculptor's chisel, 
inspired by genius and guided by taste, have equalled na- 
ture itself in reproducing it. Here, music and poetry join 
their melody, and fill the soul with an enthusiasm which re- 
calls to our minds the fabulous miracles of the lyre of Arion, 
Orpheus, or Amphion ! . . . But hark ! What melodious 
sounds strike our ear ? Is it the voice of a new Orpheus, or 
the harmonious strains of the tender Philomela, which la- 
ments its absent mate ? No, they are celestial and plaintive 
accents of simple mortals, pupils of Apollo and Euterpe. 

After visiting the temples of Thalia and Melpomene, let 
us hasten to that of their learned sister, Urania. Behold 
that august institute, where sublime geniuses throw back 
the curtain that covers the truth. Look upon these illustri- 
ous men, whose learning and skill have almost united the 
heavens and the earth, and told with all the certainty of 
truth the times and laws and movements of the vast 
world above us. Among these, mark a youthful form ; 
that youth, fresh from the college bench, has already 
written his name on the rolls of immortality ; his labours 
have given to the world of science the knowledge of a pon- 
derous globe far beyond the limits of our farthest planet or 
the range of our most powerful instruments. The name of 
Leverrier, associated with the proudest triumph of the hu- 
man intellect, commands the homage of a world, and adds 
new glories to the rich honours of his country. I shall not 
forget you, O illustrious members of that learned body, in 
whose distinctions the greatest geniuses of the world find 
additional honor ! Let us not forget the forty living members 
of the French Academy, the worthy successors of the great 
poets, historians and writers of France. You have pro- 
duced works far superior to the most perfect works of either 
Grecian or Roman genius ! ! But where am I led in a 
moment of admiration, which I cannot control, for such is 
the power and the charm that linger around the great 



DEBATES. 229 

poets, great historians, great orators and writers of France, 
that I cannot speak of them without being carried away by 
an enthusiasm which elevates my very soul. 

Shall I next speak of the warriors of France ? To name 
them would require more time than the limits of my debate 
will allow; let me, then, content myself with describing to 
you the principles and qualities of that valour called — and 
rightly called — French valour. Honour ! yes, honour ! for 
honour is the guide of all the courageous actions of the 
French. It is honour that animates and maintains them in 
their enterprises. Honour supplies every want, and leads 
them on to deeds of daring and renown. It is not more na- 
tural for men to live and breathe, than for Frenchmen to live 
and act with honour. Honour is born with them, it lives 
with them, and it never forsakes them. He knew it well, 
the great Spanish monarch Charles the Fifth, when having 
made the King of France his prisoner, and having received 
his ransom, he asked permission to cross the territories of 
France, that he might put himself at the head of his troops 
fighting in Italy. The generous Francis granted his re- 
quest, and the wily Emperor, paying a noble tribute to 
French magnanimity, did not hesitate to trust himself in the 
power of his former prisoner. Well might that prisoner 
have revenged himself, and held captive his triumphant 
rival ; but the word of a Frenchman was plighted, — the 
honour of a Frenchman forbade. Far different was the con- 
duct of the British government, when, violating all confi- 
dence and all the rights of hospitality, it laid the hands 
of violence on the greatest captain of ancient or modern 
times, and, by a refinement of cruelty, consigned him to a 
living grave, far from the scene of his splendid achieve- 
ments, on the distant and desolate island of St. Helena ! 
Such disgrace would never have blotted the fair fame of 
France. Disdaining the base doctrines, " Fidem in hostes 
non servandam" she meets her enemies on the fair field, 
conquers them with fair arms ; but the pledge of her faith, 
given or implied, she never violates. ..... 

Will they throw reproaches on the French, and darken 
the glory of their talents ? Will they accuse them of being 
too proud of their nation and of the great men she has pro- 
duced ? To this grave charge, sir, I fear I must plead 
guilty. If it need an apology, let it be in the fact, that in 
taking up a biographical dictionary, by an English author, 
20 



230 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

I find more great men of France than of all other modern 
nations united. This, sir, is a noble pride, and proudly I 
claim it. Whose heart does not swell with enthusiasm as 
he recalls the great names of his country's history ? Are we 
Americans, sir, and what is our business here this evening ? 
Are we not proud of the distinction, and do we not feel our 
hearts beat with enthusiasm when we celebrate a day like 
this ?* Do we not feel them glow with a noble pride at the 
names of Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Decatur, Rufus 
King, Jay, Fulton, Jackson, Perry, Clay, Webster, &c. &c.?f 
And why, then, should we blame in the French what we 
glory in as Americans ? Besides, sir, we must consider if 
the defects with which we reproach the French are not 
natural consequences of their character. This people, you 
are aware, push on everything to the extreme. They do 
not love, they adore ; they do not hate, they abhor ; they 
do not applaud, they stamp with enthusiasm. Their love, 
their hatred, their pleasures, show the expansion of their 
hearts, the energy of their faculties, and the quickness of 
their intelligence. Ardent and enthusiastic in all their feel- 
ings, their sorrow is despair, their joy is intoxication, their 
bravery is temerity. One may find defects in it, but they 
are the defects of nature; for their hearts, like the iEolian 
harps, vibrate at every sweet zephyr as well as at the tem- 
pests of life. 

In conclusion, I must confess my insufficiency in defend- 
ing so noble a subject. I must thank my opponents for 
their generosity in granting the easiest cause to the least 
able defender ; and, besides, my personal preferences have 
been consulted. France has my warmest sympathies ; and 
I freely confess, if I were not an American, I would be a 
Frenchman. 






GERMANY. 

Argument — Wishing not to pass over the boundary of a cour- 
teous defence, permit me to accuse my opponents of forgetfulness. 
— They seem to look upon Germany with disdain 

It may hardly be within the rules of courtesy in debate to 
charge the manifestation of this feeling towards Germany.— I 

* The 22d of February. 

t Several relatives of these distinguished men were present at the exhibition. 



DEBATES. 231 

shall endeavour to offer conclusive reasons in support of my 
cause 

I cheerfully venture a comparison in any point my adversaries 
may select, whether in science, in arts, in letters, or in arms. — 
The labours of our great men have left enduring monuments 
through all the ways of learning. — But where shall I begin ? — 
Let Copernicus lead the way. His daring and capacious mind 
solved the problem of waste worlds, and freed the high science 
of astronomy from the bounds of an ancient ignorance, &c. &c. — 
High upon the noble list are Kepler, the Euler's Pleiads, Esper, 
Herschel, &c. <kc. Write their poetical eulogy, but not their bio- 
graphical notice. 

In the annals of philosophy we have Guericke, Leibnitz, &c. 
&c. Write their poetical eulogy. 

In the temple of poetry we have Klopstock, Lessing, Goethe, 
Schiller, &c. &c. Write their poetical eulogy. 

But great and illustrious as are these, they are not all. — In the 
inventive genius of Guttemberg, we find one of the two greatest 
benefits that man can confer. — In a bold and rapid sketch, you 
will show the ignorance which prevailed everywhere before the in- 
vention of printing. — You ivill compare the invention of printing 
to the rising sun over profound darkness 

Let us again look to the past. — Nearly four centuries ago the 
feeble voice of an infant was heard in the cottage of a German 
miner. — Did they who heard its cry, and looked upon that frail 
form, think of the high destiny that awaited it ? — You will trace 
the wonders and glories of the reformation. — You will continue 

THE COMPARISON ABOVE MENTIONED. 

You will conclude. 

ENGLAND. 

Argument.-— I present myself before you with all the confi- 
dence that the better cause can give. — I come to maintain the 
superiority that every fair-minded person must yield to England, 
our mother country, &c. &c. &c. 

You will pass an animated eulogy upon the characteristic quali- 
ties of the English people. — You will add, that in eulogizing 
England, you praise America, who is so closely bound to her, as 
well by blood as in language, fyc. fyc. Sfc. 



232 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

Let us proceed to another point, in which England may have 
rivals, but no superiors. — Reference has been made to the great 
men of other countries ; allow me to recall the men of England, 
who have stamped their characters, not only upon their own con- 
temporaries, but on succeeding ages. — Exemplify this by an 
animated eulogy upon the poets, historians, philosophers, and ora- 
tors of England, — What other modern nation can present so 
brilliant a constellation of glorious names ! .... 

We will now show the superiority of the English in a point of 
view in which they can suffer no rivals. — You will here exhibit 
the influence of England upon other countries through her nume- 
rous colonies ; by her extensive navies and commerce ; and, above 
all, by her influence in India and China. — You will allude to the 
treaty of peace signed between England and China, and you will 
develope the following ideas : — The motives which armed Eng- 
land against China were unjust. — But it is the way of Providence 
to bring good out of evil. — A world of two hundred and fifty 
millions of inhabitants has been conquered, not only to European 
commerce, but also to civilization. — The cannons of England 
may have opened China to the poison of opium, but China has 
also been opened to Christianity ; &c. &c. 

You will conclude. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

Argument — You will begin with a comparison of an unskilful 
commander of a well-appointed army and an unskilful orator like 
yourself, Sfc. 8fc. 

You will employ a common rhetorical figure, and you will say : 
I could, &c. &c. ... But generosity forbids that I should take 
advantage of your American feelings, &c. &c. 

When I claim the supremacy for America, my national pride 
alone does not incite me to do it, &c. &c. 

Let us, then, lay aside our feelings, and confine ourselves to 
the strict limits of debate. — Of all the points I might offer, I shall 
select but three ; and I hope to find, in the character of our 
people, our wonderful history, and the spirit and influence of our 
institutions, full proofs to sustain the position I have taken, 
&c. &c. 

1st, Our character. 

It was an act of boldness when the enthusiastic Genoese dared 



DEBATES. 233 

to brave the perils of the deep, and try its trackless vasts in reali- 
zation of his hopes. — You will say that the Americans have in- 
herited of this boldness. — You will give proofs of this assertion. 

2d, Our wonderful history. 

Our progress, like our origin, has been unlike the progress 
and origin of any other nation. — In a hold sketch, you will trace 
the origin, progress, and history of the United States. 

3d, The spirit and influence of our institutions. 

It is not the trials and contests, nor even the triumphs, that 
make our history remarkable. — The spirit and influence of our 
institutions elevate us above all rivalry. — Here man, by birth, is 
free — here men are made free. — Compare the American republic 
with Greek, Roman, and modern nations. — Contrasted with these, 
how glorious is the inheritance of American freemen ! &c. &c. 

But it is not on these advantages alone we repose our supe- 
riority. — We have our poets — our philosophers — our historians — 
our heroes — our sages. Make their poetical eulogy, but not their 
biographical notice. 

You will end in introducing the name of Washington. 

You will conclude. 

EULOGY OP WASHINGTON. 

[Here a new orator asks permission to say a few words. He recalls that they 
celebrate the 22d of February. — It would be wrong if they did not pay a particular 
homage to Washington. — He makes an eulogy upon Washington.] 

THE JUDGE. 

Argument. — He will begin by addressing a few words of praise 
to each of his comrades, for their success in maintaining their re- 
spective positions. — He expresses his apprehension that, if he 
should award the crown to either of the orators who have set forth 
the claims of Italy, France, Germany, or England, he might be 
suspected of a want of love for his country. — He repels the re- 
motest possibility of such an accusation. 

On the other hand, if he should bestow the crown upon the de- 
fender of America, his beloved country, he fears lest he should 
be accused of partiality, &c. &c. 

He congratulates himself on having found a means of satisfying 

his patriotism without wounding the self-love of the orators who 

have defended foreign countries. — He places the crown upon the 

bust of Washington. — He will give his reasons for this, &c. &c. 

20* 



234 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

THE HEBREWS AND EGYPTIANS, THE GREEKS, 
THE ROMANS, MIDDLE AGES, MODERN NA- 
TIONS. 

THE JUDGE. 
Argument — In opening the debate, the Judge brings to the 
minds of the hearers the subjects that had been discussed on 
previous occasions. — In the name of his comrades, he returns 
thanks to the assembly.— He lays before the audience the sub- 
jects about to be treated. — They are : The Hebrews and Egyp- 
tians — The Greeks — The Romans — Middle Ages — Modern Na- 
tions 

He asks the indulgence of the audience for his schoolmates, 
and especially for those who are going to speak, for the first time, 
before so numerous and enlightened an audience, &c. &c. 

The order of the debate will follow the natural order of his- 
tory, &c. &c. 

THE HEBREWS AND EGYPTIANS. 

Argument — The orator has to present the claims of the He- 
brews and the Egyptians. — He will begin with the histor}' of the 
Hebrews. — He will give his reasons for this course. 

He will briefly touch upon the history of the Patriarchs.— 
He will pass an eulogium upon Moses, David, Solomon, &c. &c. 

He will introduce a poetical description of the Temple of Sol- 
omon, &c. &c. 

The speaker will look for some historical connection that will 
enable him to make a natural transition from the history of the 
Hebrews to that of the Egyptians. 

He will trace the history of the Egyptians that is lost in the 
darkness of ages. — He will say that Egypt was the cradle of 
learning. — He will prove this assertion. — The great men of Greece 
frequented Egypt for the sake of learning sciences, art, &c. &c. 
— The library of Ptolemy 

He will describe the monuments of Egypt — the hundred gates 
of Thebes— the pyramids — the canal of the Nile — Heliopolis, or 
the City of the Sun — the Luxor, &c. &c. 

In the peroration, or conclusion, he will make some allusion to 
the Holy Scriptures. 



DEBATES. 



235 



THE GREEKS. 

Argument. — The speaker will begin by saying that his part is 
to present the claims of Greece. — He will acknowledge his obli- 
gations to his fellow-students for assigning this duty to him. — 
Greece, after his own country, has his best sympathies. — He will 
state his reason for this preference.. 

He will say that he will not even attempt to sketch the history 
of Greece. — It would be a reflection upon the intelligence of his 
audience. — He will content himself with touching on a few 
points. — He whTsay what strikes himself most in the history of 
Greece. — It is that, being divided into many petty states, she has 
nevertheless been able to command other foreign nations, &c. &c. 
Her warriors. — The siege of Troy. — He will pass from the mar- 
vellous to the more credible exploits of Miltiades, Themistocles, 
Leonidas, Alexander the Great, &c. &c. 

To speak of the great writers of Greece, it is to speak of works 
that form the delight of the learned men of all times. — In poetry : 
Homer, Pindar, iEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, &c. &c. In 
history : Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, &c. &c. — In phi- 
losophy: the seven Sages of Greece, Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, 
Plutarch, &c. &c. — In oratory : Isocrates, Iseus, JEschines, 
Pericles, Demosthenes. — He will pass a poetical eulogy upon 
some of them. 

In conclusion, the orator will say what proves the superiority 
of the Greeks. — The Romans frequented Athens to study phi- 
losophy, belles lettres, arts, even when Athens had fallen from 
her splendour. 

THE ROMANS. 

Argument. — The orator will show an analogy between the in- 
significant beginning of Rome and his own country.— He will 
also point out the difference between the banditti that founded 
Rome and the sturdy asserters of religious freedom who first set- 
tled the United Slates 

Rome at first was monarchical, but she soon perceived that she 
ought to adopt a form of government more suited to her future 
destiny. — She then became republican. — Thence Rome derived 
all her greatness. — He will draw a similitude between the Repub- 
lics of Rome and the United States. 

Rome, after having overcome other nations by the force of her 



236 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. 

arms, overcame them by the force of her genius .—Historians : 
Livy, Sallust, Tacitus, &c. &c. — Poets : Virgil, Lucan, Horace, 
Ovid, Juvenal, &c. &c. — Orators : Gracchi, Hortensius, Cicero, 
Pliny the younger, &c. &c. — He will pay a poetical eulogy upon 
some of them. 

Peroration. — What an example has not Rome given to the 
whole world ! — After having conquered Greece, Rome went to 
study at Athens. — The conqueror became the enthusiastic disci- 
ple of the conquered ! ! .... 

THE MIDDLE AGES. 

Argument. — The speaker will say that be rises in defence of 
the middle ages, with mingled feelings of reluctance and pleasure. 
— He uill say why. — His hand, more eloquent than his tongue, 
would soon give evidence of his superiority. — But he will soon 
prove to his adversaries that a true knight can combat with words 
as well as with the lance 

First, on what does the distinction between ancient ancr modern 
consist ? — The duration of the world is generally compared to 
the life of a man, who has had his infancy, his youth, his old 
age. — He will develop that idea. — Then the ancients are the 
moderns, and the moderns the ancients. — In an invocation to the 
knights, his brothers in arms, he will beg them to forgive him for 
employing a thrust of the tongue, instead of a thrust of the lance. . 

He will say that the knights of the middle ages did not intend 
to work for the amusement and pastime of the idle and lazy 
pedagogues and bookworms who were to follow them, but for the 
example and admiration of posterity. — In a bold sketch, he will 
make an eulogy upon chivalry. — He will introduce the valiant 
Don Quixotte, &c. &c. 

The chief glory of the middle ages rests upon the crusades. — 
The ancient or modern nations have nothing to compare with 
these great actions of crusaders 

On the other hand, what did or what have done the pedants of 
ancient or modern times ? — He will oppose the brilliant actions of 
the middle ages to the nonsense of ancient and modern pedagogues. 

In the peroration, he will exhort his last opponent and the 
judge to turn their arms and their tongues against their common 
foe, in order to stigmatize the trash of these grammaticasters who 
cause them so much trouble. 



DEBATES. 237 

MODERN NATIONS. 

Before proceeding to the defence of the Moderns, the orator will 
defend the Ancients against the attacks of the preceding speaker. 
— He will next refute his cunning sophism. 

This sophism can be applied with some correctness to the pro- 
gress of the sciences and the arts. — But fancy, imagination, taste, 
cannot be left as an heritage. — He will amplify that idea. 

It cannot be denied that the Moderns have profited by the 
labours and discoveries of the Ancients. — But when the light of 
genius has been extinguished, we know by what slow degrees the 
human mind can recover its vigour.— -He will develop that idea. 

In what consists the superiority of the Ancients ?— He will 
give proofs that if the Ancients are superior in a few branches of 
literature and art, they are inferior in a great many others, — He 
will oppose some modern to the ancient writers. 

The superiority of the Moderns rests on a more positive ground. 
— It consists in their advance in science — in their true knowledge 
of nature — in the freedom from superstition, &c. &c.~- He will 
prove these assertions. 

Conclusion or peroration. The advocates of antiquity have 
acted wisely in making no allusion to the female sex.-- -He will 
oppose the modern to the ancient women.~-From that he will draw 
his conclusion. 

THE JUDGE. 

After some general reflections upon the speeches, the Judge 
will say that, having agreed to the condition imposed upon him 
of granting the crown to some one of the parties engaged in the 
discussion, he would find himself somewhat embarrassed. — He 
thanks the speaker who defended the Moderns for having sug- 
gested a happy idea. — He will make a brilliant eulogy upon 
modern women. — He will add, that if the superiority of modern 
writers may be held in doubt, the superiority of modern women 
cannot be denied 

He will finish by granting the crown to the Moderns, in the 
person of modern women. 

END OF SECOND AND THIRD SERIES, 






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